
Class. 



i 

SERMONS 



ON 



IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. 



BY THE LATE 



REV. DAVID TAPPAN, d. d. 

HOLLIS PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSITY 
AT CAMBRIDGE. 



To WHICH ARE PREPIXEn X 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR ; 



AND A 



SERMON 



PREACHED AT HIS FUNERAL BY DR. HOLMES. 



publigfjeH 



BY W. HILLIARD AND LINCOLN & EDMANDS, AND FOR SALE 

AT THE BOOKSTORE IN CAMBRIDGE, AND AT 

NO. ^Z^ CORNHILL, BOSTON. 

1807. 






DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to wrt : 

BE it remembered, that on the fifteenth clay of August, 
in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and 
seven, in the thirty-second year of the Independence of the Unit- 
ed States of America, Mary Tappan^ of said District, has de- 
posited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof she 
claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit : " Sermons 
" on important Subjects, by the late Rev. David Tappan, d. d. 
" Hollis Professor of Divinity in the University at Cambridge. 
" To which are prefixed a Biographical Sketch of the Author ; 
" and a Sermon preached at his Funeral by Dr. Holmes." 

In confonnity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, 
" intituled, " An Act for the encouragement of learning, by se- 
" curing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors 
" and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein men- 
" tioned :'* and also to an Act, intitled, " An Act supplementa- 
" ry to an Act, intitled. An Act for the encouragement of learn- 
" ing, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the 
" authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times there- 
*' in mentioned ; and extending the benefits thereof to the arts 
" of designing, engraving, and etching historical and othei' 
«< prints." 

WILLIAM S. SHAW, Clerk of the Distrkt of 
Massachusetts, 

A true copy of Record, > 
Attest, W. S. SHAW, Clerk. S 



— 5T 



AD VER r I SEMEN T. 



THE Discourses, which constitute this 
volume, were selected from the manu- 
cripts of the author, since his decease, by 
a number of his friends, who carefully 
revised, and in most instances transcribed 
them for the press. As these Sermons 
were not written for publication, some ver- 
bal and other minute alterations became 
necessary previously to their appearance in 
print ; these the editors have taken the 
liberty to make ; but in no instance have 
they intentionally changed the meaning 
of the author. 

The editors are responsible for the se- 
lection of these discourses, and the print- 
ers for the correctness and neatness of the 
dress in which they appear. In respect 
both to the matter and the execution, a 
hope is entertained, that the patrons of 
the work will be gratified. 

Short Memoirs of the Life of the Author 
are prefixed to this volume, containing 
facts and information not to be found in 
Dr. Holmes' discourse delivered at his fu- 
neral, which is prefixed to this volume, 



p ADVERTISEMENT. 

The editors have fulfilled a task, which 
has cost them considerable attention and 
labour ; but they have an ample reward 
in reflecting, that they have rescued from 
oblivion the productions of a man of ge- 
nius, learning, and piety, which will be 
read with delight and improvement, not 
only by the present, but by future gen- 
erations. 

With affectionate respect to the memory 
of the author, these discourses are humbly 
commended to the blessing of Heaven, 
and the patronage of the friends of Chris- 
tain truth, by 

THE EDITORS, 

Aug, 20, X807, 



CONTENTS. 



MEMOIRS of the Author. 

Discourse at the Funeral of the Author, by Dr. Holmes. 

SERMON I. 
On Christian Zeal. 3 

Rev. iii. 19. Be zealous, 

SERMON II. 
On brotherly Reproof. 2(5 

Lev. xix. 17. Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart ; 
thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour, and not suffer sin 
upon him, 

SERMON III. 

On Secret Faults and Presumptuous Sins. 35 

Psalm xix. 12, 13. Who can understand his errors? Cleanse 
thou me from secret faults. Keep back thy servant also from 
presumptuous sijis. Let them not have dominion over me. 
Then shall I be upright ; and J shall be innocent from the 
great transgression, 

SERMON IV. 

On the Love of God. 45 

Mark xii. 30. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God ivith all thy 
heart, and luith all thy soul, and ivith all thy ?nind, and ivith 
all thy strength ; this is the first and great conwiandment. 

SERMON V. 

On the Love of our Neighbour. BS 

Mark xii. 31. Jlnd the second is like unto it, namely, this, Thou 
shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, 

SERMON VI. 
On Christian Charity. 67 

1 Cor. xiii. 13. The greatest of these is Charity. 



VI ' . CONTENTS. 

SERMON VII. Page 

On Christian Charity. 77 

1 Cor. xiii. 15. — The greatest of these is Charity. 

SERMON VIII. 

On the Vices of the Tongue. 88 

James iii. 8. But the tongue can no vian tame ; it is an unruhj 
evil^ full of deadly poison. 

SERMON IX. 

The Character of a Wise Man. 99 

Psalm iii. 10. The Fi^ar of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom, 

SERMON X. 
On the Pleasures of Religion. 112 

Proverbs xxiv. 13, 14. My son, eat thou honey , because it is 
good ; and the honeycomb, which is sweet to thy taste : so shall 
the knonvledge of wisdom be to thy soul. When thou hast found 
it, then there shall be a reward, and thy exjiectation shall not 
be cut off. 

^SERMON XI. 

The Want of a practical Regard to religious Trutli, 

the Cause of dangerous speculative Errors. 128 

2 Thessalonlans ii. 10, 11, and 12. Because they received not 
the love of the truth that they might be, saved ; for this cause 
God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a 
lie ; that they all might be damned, who believed not the trulhy 
but had pleasure in unrighteousness , 

SERMON XII. 

Naaman the Leper. 140 

2 Kings V. 10 — rl4. AndElisha sent a messenger unto him,saying, 
Go and wash in Jordan seven times, and thy fesh shall come 
again to thee, and thou shalt be clean. But J\,''aaman was 
ivroth, and went away, and said. Behold, I thought, he will sure- 
ly come out to me, and stand, and call on the name of the Lord 
his God, and strike his hand over the place, and recover the 
leper. Are not Ahana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, bctf 
ter than all the waters of Israel ? May I not wash in them 
and be clean ? So he turned and we7it away in a rage. And 
Hs servant came near, and spake %into liimy and saidj JVfy 



CONTENTS. VU 

father^ if the firophet had bid thee do some great things rvouldest 
thou not have done it ? Hoiv much rather thcn^ ivhen he 
suiih unto thee^ moafih and be clean ? Then luent he down arid 
dipped himself seven times in Jordan^ according to the saying 
of the man of God ; and his flesh came again like the flesh of 
a little child ; and he tvas clean. 

SERMON XIIT. 
On the Love of the World. 151 

1 John ii. 15- ^O"^'^ ^^^ ^^^^ world, neither the things that arc 
in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father 
is not in him. 

SERMON XIV. 
On the Divine Preference of Mercy to Sacrifice. 164 
Matthew xii. 7, 1 toill have inercy, and not sacrifice. 

SERMON XV. 
On Christian Hope. 179 

1 John iii. 3. Every man that hath this hope in him, purrfietk 
hi?nself, even as he is pure, 

SERMON XVI. 
The Christian Pattern. 189 

Philippians ii. 5. Let this mind be in you, ivhich was also in 
Christ Jesus. 

SERMON XVII. 

Relio-ious Joy explained and recommended. 200 
!Philippians iv. 4. Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I say, 

rejoice. 

SERMON XVIII. 

Religious Joy explained and recommended. 210 
Philippians iv. 4. Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I 

say, rejoice. 

SERMON XIX. 

3n Prayer. 229 

Matthew vi. 9, 10. HaUou>ed be thy name ; thy kingdom, come ; 
thy will be done in earth, as it i* in heaven. 



Vm CONTENTS. 

SERMON XX. ^^^ 

The Spirit, Elnployment, and Design, of the Chris- 
tian Ministry. 246 

Ephesians iii. 8, 9, 10. Unto me, who am less than the least of 
all saints, is this grace given^ that I should fireach among the ^ . 
Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ ; and to make all 
men see what is the fellowshifi of the mystery, which from the 
beginning of the world hath been hid in God, who created all 
things by Jesus Christ : To the intent, that now, unto the 
jirincifialities, in heavenly places, might be known by the church 
the manifold wisdom of God, 

SERMON XXI. 

. The Benefits of Affliction. 269 

Hebrews xii.9, 10. Furthermore, we have had fathers of our fleshy 
who corrected us, and we gave them reverence ; shall we not 
■much rather be in*subjection to the Father of spirits, and live ? 
For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own 
pleasure ; but he, for our profit, that we might be partakers 
of his holiness, 

SERMON XXII. 

On the Duty and Advantages of worshipping God. 282 

Psalm xcv. 6. O come, let us worship and bow down ; let ua 
kneel before the Lord our Maker, 

SERMON XXIII. 
On Forgiveness. 295 

Matthew vi. 12. Forgive us our debts, as yfe forgive our 

debtors. 

SERMON XXIV. 
On the Connexion between denying the Son and 

denying the Father. 310 

I John ii. 23. Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hath not 
the Father ; but he that acknowledgeth the Son, hath the 
Father also, 

SERMON XXV. 
. Religion the one Thing needful. 321 

Luke X. 42. £ut one thing is needful. 



MEMOIRS 

OF THE 

MU, Cljaractcr, anO mvitinss 



OP THE 



BEv. DAVID TAPPAN, d. d. 



O record the principal events in the lives of emi- 
nent men, and to delineate their characters, has always 
been considered a useful undertaking. " We naturally 
wish to be acquainted with those, who delight and in- 
f^f_^''\^''^ '\^^^^^ i^bonrs we feel oui^elves in- 
debted. Biographical memoirs, if faithfully executed 
gmufy this wish." We are peculiarly intere'sted, when 
we behold a remarkable genius early displaying its pow 
ers, growing up to quick maturity, devoted to the Lst 
useful ^d sacred purposes, and cut off by death in the 
midst of Its activity. Examples of this kind proclaim 
to us the uncertain tenure of human life, and yet teach 
us, that those, who have only a shot pLage'Srough 
this world, may confer permanent benefits on mankind 
and obtain a place in their esteem more lasting, Tnd 
more honourable, than monuments of stone 

The Creator, designing the subject of these memoirs 
for a very important station, imparted to him cr^ 
ponding advantages. By the talents which heTnleTd 
from nature, together with his moral and literal t 
provements, he was qualified for extens t Sne"' 
He was boi-n April 21, 1752. His father the Rev 
Benjamm lappan, of Manchester, had the prindpl 



U 



10 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN, 

care of his first years, and taught him the elements of 
knowledge. Early in life he discovered marks of a very 
ingenious, active mind. Before his admission into the 
university, he was placed, for a time, under the tuition 
of Mr. Samuel Moody, Preceptor of Dummer Acad- 
emy. At the age of fourteen years he was admitted 
into Harvard University. There, rising above juvenile 
follies and vices, and maintaining the character of a 
soberminded and \drtuous youth, he diligently and suc- 
cessfully sought useful knowledge. Extending his 
views into future life, he preferred those attainments, 
which V are solid and durable, before those which are 
showy or splendid. He was distinguished for ardent 
lovfe of knowledge, for his blameless and serious con- 
duct, and for his dutiful regard to the laws and guides 
of the institution.^ 

* After leaving the university, he assiduously devoted 
his mind, more than two years, to the study of divinity, 
though occasionally employed in teaching a school. In- 
deed he had bestowed an uncommon share of attention 
on moral and religious subjects while at college, and 
from his earliest youth. Beside which, it is to be re- 
membered, that early maturity was a remarkable trait in 
the character of his mind. Accordingly, his first per- 
formances iii the desk displayed a fund of theological in- 
formation, procured him a high place in the public es- 



The follcming notes are extracted from a mamiscript sermon delivered shortly 
after the death of Br. Tappan^ by a very intimate and discerning friend, and 
brother in the ininistry, vohofor many years was united ivith him in the same 
Association. 

* During- the third year of his collegiate life, "a sickness, which brought 
him to a near view of death, was the means of such awakening and convic- 
tljons, as he had not known before, and was followed, some months after, 
with such views of mind and actings of heart in divine things, as gave a 
mw direction even to his unblamed and comparatively imiocentlife." 



MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. n 

teem, and indicated the eminence, which he afterward 
attained. His hearers were surprised with ^the extent 
and pertinence of his thoughts, with his accurate and 
copious style, with the animation and solemnity of his 
utterance, arid tiie fervour of his devotions. 

A very harmonious church and society in Newbury 
soon invited his ministerial labours. At the age of twen- 
ty-one, he was ordained the pastor of that flock, in which 
office he continued about eighteen years. 

He chose the sacred office from principle. It was his 
deliberate judgment, that the gospel ministry is, of all 
professions, the most important to mankind. That work, 
involving the best interests of intelligent creatures, ac- 
corded Avith his benevolence and piety. He made it 
the deliglitful business of his life to recommend to 
others that Saviour, whose glory had captivated his heart. 
He had the peculiar advantage, which belongs to all 
ministers, who are called of God, that when he preached 
the unsearchable riches of Christ, "^he spake what he 
knew, and testified what he had seen.'' To this un- 
doubtedly must be ascribed, in a great measure, his im- 
pressive manner of preaching. He spake from the fulr 
ness of his heart. No hearer could doubt, that he felt 
the reality and eternal importance of the truths he 
delivered. 

As a preacher, he was evangelicaL The peculiar 
contents of the gospel were the principal subjects of his 
discourses. ",.He determined to know nothing, save 
Jesus Christ and him crucified." The gospel, as a reve- 
lation of grace to sinners, was the great subject, which 
he studied and explained. '* Sensible that the revela- 
tion of mediatorial mercy is the chosen instrument of 
saving a ruined world ; that he was divinely commis- 
sioned to publish and enforce it for this end ; and that 



IS MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAJl. 

its final completion will embrace the order, perfection, 
and happiness of the moral world, and the highest glory 
of its Author ; he dwelt upon the sublime subject with 
eager and profound attention."* Those doctrines, 
which are the groundwork of revelation, were the 
groundwork of his preaching. Scarcely a sermon came 
from his lips, in which some of the peculiarities of evan- 
gelical truth were not found. 

He was a very practical preacher. Every gospel 
doctrine, he insisted, has its corresponding precept and 
duty. Speaking of the doctrines of human depravity, 
and salvation by the mercy of God, the atonement of 
Christ, and the sanctification of the Spirit, he says; 
*^ from these doctrines immediately result the duties of 
evangelical repentance and humility, faith and hope, 
gratitude and love, obedience and joy." He gave it as 
his opinion, " that Christian piety and morality must rise 
or fall, as the doctrines of grace, which support and ex- 
alt them, are regarded or neglected." By these senti- 
ments he regulated his preaching. Whenever he incul- 
cated the duties of Christianity, he did it chiefly by evan- 
gelical motives. Whenever he described a good man, 
he described him, as a character formed upon gospel 
principles ; as a redeemed penitent sinnerj pardoned 
through Christ, and regenerated by the Holy Spirit. 
He represented the believer's inward exercises and whole 
practice, as having a constant respect to the great scheme 
of mediatorial grace. In his painting of virtue and relig- 
ion you would not see the image of Seneca or Plato, 
but that of David or Paul. You would hear the Chris- 
tian, of his describing, humbly proclaiming the abundant 
grace of Christ, and, from a heart enraptured with his di- 
vine beauty, crying out, " Unto him, who hath loved us, 

* Dr. Tappan's own words in describing; a Christian minister. 



MlEMOmS OF DR. TAPPAN. JJ 

and washed us from our sins in his blood, be honour and 
glory forever." At the same time he made it appear, 
that such affection to Christ is not only the surest evi- 
dence of an upright heart, but the most efficacious mo- 
tive to a pious and useful life. 

Dr. Tappan was impressed with the importance of 
plain and distinguishing preaching. He was happy in 
commanding a style, which had chaims for all. While 
the refined hearer enjoyed its flowing elegance, the un-, 
refined was edified with its plainness. Deeply affected 
himself with the necessity and worth of true religion, he 
laboured to describe it intelligibly and correctly, and to 
discriminate its saving exercises and fruits from every 
deceitful imitation. To this work his mind was early- 
directed by the perusal of Edwards' Treatise on Re-r 
ligious Affections. It was often the drift of his discourses 
to point out the essential difference between the sanctified 
Sections of the believer, and the best exercises of the 
unrenewed heart. It was his serious endeavour, *'to 
lay open the human heart to the view of mankind ; to 
trace its windings, its disguises, its corruptions ; to 
expand all its latent seeds of abomination ; to pluck off 
its mask of apparent virtue ; to unfold the secret princi- 
ples of human conduct, and distinguish appearances 
from realities ; to detect the various biasse§ of self love 
and self deceit; to delineate every shape and form, 
which the unsanctified heart in various circumstances 
will assume, so that every sinner might see and recog. 
nise himself in the draught, and all classes of natural 
men .... might so perceive their moral diseases, as im>. 
mediately to look for a suitable remedy."* 

He was a very affectionate preacher. When address- 
ing his fellow immortals, his heart was often enlarge^ 

* Dr. T.'s sermon at the ordination of Rev. Timothy Dickinson. 



14 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 

and melted. His countenance, his voice, his gestures 
had all the natural marks of kind concern. His hearers, 
however reproved and alarmed, were convinced, that he 
spoke from love ; that the mortifying reproof and pain- 
ful alarm he gave, were m.eant for their good. They 
saw and felt, that the preacher was an ardent friend to 
tlieir souls, and that he did not inflict the wound, which 
faithfulness required him to inflict, without reluctance 
and grief.* 

He studied variety in his preaching. He thought a 
minister's usefulness greatly abridged, by confining him- 
self within a small circle of favourite speculations. 
Accordingly he took an extensive range, and aimed to 
introduce that pleasing variety of topics, which the scrip- 
tures furnish ; though, after all, it was manifest, that he 
made evangelical religion the sum and centre of his 
preaching. The variety in his preaching was increased 
by his method of adapting his performances to particular 
occasions. In this he discovered remarkable facility and 
pertinence. He readily entered into the spirit of every 
occasion, and said what was suitable and impressive. 
Beside his appropriate performances on sacramental and 
funeral occasions, he frequently noticed the great events 
of Providence in the natural, civil, and religious world, 
and used them to elucidate some interesting truth, or en- 
force some important duty. 

* " It is probable, that his great modesty and meekness disarmed envy, 
and called forth a sentiment at once tender and respectful. He was not 
a thundering- preacher ; but he spoke in a manner eminently enlightened, 
energetic, and persuasive ; and perhaps the meekness of his air was a 
foil, to set off the strong- sensibilities of his mind. His elocution was not 
of the splendid kind ; but it was nature feelingly expressed. All his soul 
entered into his sermons. Every distinct subject appeared deeply to im- 
press him ; and the vivid perceptions of his mind enlivened every sen- 
tence and every word. He had, above most othei^s, the faculty of losing 
Jiimsejf in his subject." 



MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 15 

In the Christian pastor we seldom find so much to be 
admired, as in Dr. Tappan. His virtues and exertions, 
as a minister, seemed evidently to result from his person- 
al piety. This gave beauty, uniformity, and usefulness 
to his whole pastoral character. What he did for the 
promotion of religion, he did, not because his reputation 
and office required it, but because he had an operative, 
abiding conviction, that religion is unspeakably amiable 
in itself, and above all things interesting to men. In the 
discharge of his sacred duties, he appeared only to act 
out the benevolence, the humility, the meekness, and 
the devotion, wliich divine grace had wrought in his 
own soul. 

With powers of mind and qualities of heart, which 
attracted general esteem and admiration, he was modest 
and humble, delicate and unassuming, ever attentive to 
the claims of others, and ready to sacrifice his own. He 
relished the condescending and self denying duties of his 
office, taking pleasure " in instructing, reproving, and 
comforting the lowest forms of human nature." His 
meekness was as remarkable, as his humility. His sa- 
cred office, giving him intercourse with persons of 
every character, called for the frequent exercise of Chris- 
tian meekness. When tried by the ignorance and 
stupidity, or by the perverseness and injustice of men, 
he was calm and collected. The irritation of others did 
not irritate him. 

He %vas remarkably free from a ivorldly spirit. For 
cartlily riches and grandeur he had no relish. Far no- 
bler objects occupied his thoughts, attracted his love, 
and roused his exertions. The riches of religion, the 
attainment of knowledge and holiness, the spread of 
evangelical truth, the display of divine perfection, the 
salvation of men, — these were the great objects, v.hich 



16 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAK. 

commanded his mind and heart. His soul seemed to 
be exalted above those contrivances and cares, which 
are necessary to the acquisition of wealth. His insatia- 
ble thirst for knowledge, and his sedulous attention to 
pastoral duties, left him little opportunity and little 
inclination for worldly concerns. His temporal interests 
were, therefore, chiefly entrusted to the prudence and 
fidelity of others. Superior to fretfulness and anxiety, 
he accepted, without murmuring, a salary quite inade- 
quate to his support, humbly confiding in the bounty of 
Providence, and in the generosity of affectionate individ- 
tials. His moral taste was so refined, and the plan of 
liis conduct so devout, that it was his deliberate choice 
to live at a distance from luxury and show. What he 
possessed of this world's goods, he valued chiefly as the 
means, not of private gratification, but of promoting the 
welfare of others. Free, in a good measure, from 
the incumbrance of worldly cares and pursuits, he 
consecrated his talents to sacred duties. While he 
sustained the pastoral office, he devoted a great por- 
tion of his time to study.* His acquaintance with the 
old English authors was extensive. The treasures of 
truth contained in Owen, Howe, Goodwin, Bates, Bax- 
ter, &c. raised them in his estimation far above the 
greater part of more polished modems. The best models 
of refined composition he, nevertheless, studied with 
diligence, and imitated with success. What the old 
authors wanted in point of elegance, he aimed to sup- 
ply from accomplished moderns. And what most of 
the moderns want in point of solid information, he sup- 

* " With all that was remarkable in him, nothing was more so, than con- 
stant mental action, and an ardent desire to be ever improving-. Hence he 
was as uncommon a hearer, as speaker ; his eye, his attention, unremitting- 
ly fixed, so that nothing of consequence seemed to escape him ; and he 
was very happy in retaining the valuable ideas, he had once acquired," 



MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. i7 

piled from the old authors. In the old authors he found 
the body of di\ ine truth ; in the new, its more comely 
and engaging dress. 

Though his abilities might have raised him to emi- 
nence in general erudition ; he wisely chose to limit his 
attention principally to those branches of knowledge, 
which are allied to theology, and have the most promis- 
ing influence on ministerial usefulness. He never sa- 
crificed to ambition or taste the regular duties of his 
ofllce. First of all he attended to the work of the min- 
istry. His stated sermons he composed with much 
study and accuracy; He carefully furnished himself 
for every common as well, as for every special 
occasion. Though his apprehension was quick and 
his invention fertile ; and though he had a remark- 
able facility in fixing his attention, and in arranging and 
expressing his thoughts ; yet he did not allow^ himself to 
enter the desk ^vithout thorough preparation. For sev« 
eral years, he wrote his discourses at full length. But af- 
terward his increasing employments and avocations fre- 
quently permitted him to write only the plan aiid leading 
sentiments ; and sometimes he preached wholly extem- 
pore. 

For the duties and delights of friendship he was pe- 
culiai'ly formed. His religion disposed him to sympa- 
thy, tenderness, and love. Kind affection lighted up his 
countenance, gave a delightful glow to his conversation, 
and cheerfulness to every beneficent action he performed. 
In him appeared true Christian politeness. The gentle- 
ness and suavity of his manners were not the substitute, 
but the spontaneous expression of sincere kindness. So 
mild and obliging was his disposition, that it cost him 
an tfibrt to refuse even an improper request, or in any 
c 



18 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 

way to give pain to others. In the whole intercourse of 
social hfe he was studious to please, cautious of offend- 
ing, and. slow to be offended. His deportment and con- 
versation bespoke an unsuspecting simplicity of heart, a 
dignified sense of propriety, and serious regard to moral 
and religious obligation. He maintained a chaste and 
sober cheerfulness, by which he constantly gave evi- 
dence, that religion is a productive source of the best 
enjoyments. 

His people always found him a friend, a brother, a 
father. He was a guide to inexperienced youth, a pious 
comforter to old age, a counsellor in difficulties, a sup- ■ 
port to the afflicted. In the chamber of sickness he was 
a serious, tender, and prayerful visitant. And while he 
delighted to participate and sooth the troubles of his 
people, he was no less ready to rejoice in their prosperi- 
ty, and to esteem their happiness a part of his own. 
Love seemed to be the ruling principle of his pastoral 
conduct. Even when he administered reproof to any 
of his flock, a task the least of all congenial to his feelings, 
he gave them evidence, that their reprover was their 
friend. 

The cause of vital, experimental religion was dear to 
his heart. With great satisfaction he read accounts of 
what God had recently done in many parts of the world. 
He rejoiced to observe the deep religious impressions, 
which usually take place where God pours out his Spir- 
it. To promote such impressions among his own peo- 
ple, particularly in the latter years of his pastoral work, 
he was instant in season, and out of season. 

He ^\'as a isery ardent friend to his country. United 
by the strongest affection to the cause of the public, he 
warmly espoused the principles of those men, whom he 
considered as honest patriots. In conformity to those 



MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 19 

principles, he vindicated the rights, unfolded the dan- 
gers, and inculcated the duties of his country, w ithout 
entering into the violence of party spirit, or detracting 
from the disrnitv and sacredness of his station. 

Ox 

He possessed an uncommon degree of Christian con- 
dour ; that candour \\-hich is the operation of an enlarged 
mind and a benevolent heart. He ^vas an equitable 
judge of the characters, and a mild interpreter of the ac- 
tions of men. Toward them, who differed from him in 
belief, he cherished a very kind and generous affection. 
He knew too well the constitution of the human mind ; 
he had too much regard to the right of private judg- 
ment and the use of free inquiry ; he was too wise, too 
modest, and too just to indulge in himself, or to encour- 
age in others a dogmatical, intolerant spirit. His candour 
prevented him from passing sentence upon persons or 
things without the authority of scripture ; from giving 
way to groundless suspicions and jealousies ; from 
judging of men's state wdth reference to divine accep- 
tance, upon grounds not expressly determined by the 
gospel ; from imputing to others opinions, wdiich they 
disavow, and from overlooking their excellencies, be- 
cause mingled with faults. His candour was a branch of 
that lo^oe^ which suffereth long and is kind; ^ivhich tlunk- 
eth no eml ; %vhich beareth all things^ belicoeth all things y 
hopeth all things, endureth all things. His charity was 
benevolence ; benevolence restricted to no particular 
.denomination, or even character ; though it had not the 
same operation tow^ard all. Like the charity of Jesus 
Christ, it was cordial complacency in them, wljo obeyed 
the truth. But toward the erroneous and irreligious, it 
was mingled disapprobation, compassion, and good will ; 
disapprobation of their errors and sins, compassion for 
their miseries, and good will to their souls. His charity 



I 



20 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAK. 

as well, as his judgment, led him to mourn the relaxed 
opinions of religion, which prevail at this day. Inspired 
with the spirit of other times, when the glory of New 
England piety shone forth, he greatly lamented its de- 
cline. In his view, modern liberality stripped the gospel 
of all its glory. Socinianism he pronounced a cold^ life- 
less system^ the name \mthoiit the essence of Christianity, 
He considered it as taking away the life and soul of re- 
ligion, and as very near the confines of infidelity. In 
the spread of this and other forms of antichristian theolo- 
gy, he clearly saw the decay of vital piety, the peril of 
immortal souls, and the desolation of Zion. 

In June, A. D. 1792, the corporation and overseers 
of Harvard University, harmoniously invited him to the 
office of Professor of Divinity. His learning and piety, 
his religious sentiments, and his aptness to teach, accord- 
ed V. ith the design and statutes ojf those who founded the 
Professorship, and justified his appointment to the im- 
portant office.* He considered his relation to his peo- 
JDle so intimate and sacred, that he did not determine 
upon a separation without long and serious reflection, 
and such advice as deserved his confidence. The ques- 
tion was submitted to a very respectable ecclesiastical 
council, who unanimously voted, that duty and the 
general interest of religion required his removal. On 
the 26th of December, A. D. 1792, he was inaugurated, 
as Hollis Professor of Divinity in Harvard University. 

In order to give a proper idea of his usefulness, it is 
necessary to observe, that, when he was introduced into 
the Professor's chair, the religious state of the Universi- 
ty was very alarming. For some time the students had 

* Among those, who were active in introducing him into the Professor's 
chair, were several who were his cotemporai'ies at the University, and had 
known him from his childhood. Of this number " was that excellent man, 
the late Lieutenant Governor Phii^lips, than whom uo one took a more 
earnest part in placing hira in that station.'* 



MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN^. 21 

received no regular instruction in divinity. Books, con- 
taining the poison of deism, were eagerly read, and the 
minds of many corrupted. Immorality and disorder, 
in various shapes, had become prevalent, and mocked 
the po^^er of persuasion and the arm of authority. Such 
was the state of things, when Professor Tappan entered 
on the duties of his office. The gi'eat object of his public 
and private lectures was, to defend the principles of natur- 
al and revealed religion, and to lead the students to the 
knowledge of their Maker and Redeemer. His whole 
official conduct was calculated to conciliate affection, to 
excite serious regard to divine truth, and to impress the 
importance of religious duty. Not expecting youth to 
overlook their pleasure in their love of improvement, he 
aimed, in his public lectures, to unite entertainment with 
information. He happily combined brevity with fulness, 
and animation with exactness. He was didactic, yet 
persuasive ; profound, and yet pathetic. It was impos- 
sible for young men of liberal minds to hear his public 
lectures, with the well adapted and fervent prayers which 
introduced and closed them, without a conviction, that 
religious truth could be vindicated by argument, and 
that Christian goodness ennobled the soul; and yielded 
the best enjoyments. So singular was the assemblage 
of excellent qualities in his public performances at the 
University, that the nicest criticism could complain of no 
inelegance in the style, and the most metaphysical, of no 
unfairness in argument; while the warmest piety was 
raised to a higher and purer flame. It must not be omit- 
ted, that his evangelical sentiments and puritan morals 
were greatly conducive to his usefulness, as a professor. 
In consequence of his influence, infidelity among the 
students was gradually confounded, profanity and irreli- 
gion ^vere awed and restrained, and the science of God was 



22 MEMOIRS OF t«l. TAPPAN. 

studied with more seriousness and delight ; and it soon 
became customary in ail public performances, to speak 
of Christianity in terms of respect and veneration. The 
religious public manifested a growing attachment to the 
University, and cherished a pleasing hope, that the youth, 
educated there, would not only be instructed in human 
science, but guarded against infidelity, and initiated into 
the true principles of the oracles of God. 

During his professorship, he was frequently invited to 
preach in the neighbouring societies, and sometimes in 
.distant places. His preaching was remarkably accept- 
able. There was not wanting in his performances some- 
thing to command the respect of the wicked, to please the 
taste of the polished, and refresh the souls of the saints. 
He willingly laboured in the ministry even above his 
strength, gladly embracing every opportunity to preach 
the unsearchable riches of Christ, and to spread the 
savour of pure religion. "He was indeed a burning and 
shining light." 

But that shining light was suddenly extinguished. 
When his amiable character had become generally 
known ; when his prospect of usefulness was growing 
brighter ; when the sphere of his activity was extending, 
and the energies of his mind were most constantly ex- 
prted, his prospect was overspread, and his useful life 
closed. When ministers are best qualified to do good 
in the world, then are they often most ripe for the king-, 
dom of heaven. To replenish the celestial mansions, 
the excel 1 ent of the earth "are taken away. 

Let the reader, for a moment, turn aside, and behold 
that scene, where the good man's character is tried. 
Though Dr. Tappan's sickness was short, it was long 
enough to display his piety, and to glorify the Saviour in 
whoni he believed. The notice of his approaching 



MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 23 

dissolution, though very sudden, did not discompose 
him.^ With many expressions of humility and self 
abasement, he declared his hope in the infinite mercy of 
God through the atonement of Christ. In redeeming 
grace he found rest to his soul. After such solemn and 
prayerful examination of himself, as becometh a man 
hastening to the bar of eternal justice, he found reason to 
hope, that he was the subject of saving religion, and 
finally had stronsr consolation. 

J o 

Only one or two particulars of his dying exercises will 
be mentioned. When his wife expressed some of the 
tender feelings, w^hich were excited by the thought of 
parting with him, he said; *' If God is glorified, I am 
7nadc forefeet'. Can't you lay hold of that? Can't you 
lay hold of that ?" To his sons, then undergraduates, 
he expressed his paternal concern for the welfare of the 
University. On being told, that the students were more 
attentive, than they had been to the Bible, he replied ; 
IFell, the Bible eijer has been, and e^er will be the best 
guide for young men. He died Aug. 27, A. D. 1803^ 
aged 51. 

Doctor Tappan's death was no common calamity. 
To the surviving partner and children, and other near 
connexions, the affliction was indescribable. Youthful 
genius and virtue mourned the decease of a friend and 
patron. The church and nation lost one, who had 
sought and prayed for their welfare. The University 
felt, that one of her pillars was fallen. Religion herself 
wept over the tomb of Tappan, w^ho had pleaded her 
cause, lived for her honour, and rejoiced in the hope of 
her approaching triumph. 

* Many interesting particulars respecting the character and death of 
Dr. T. will be found in the funeral sermon, which follows. 



The following is a complete List of the Publications of 
Dr. Tappan, 

1,2. Two Discourses delivered on the Sabbath after his Ordi- 
nation at Newbury. 
5. A Sermon on the Character of Amaziah. 17'82. 

4. A Fast Sermon. 1783. 

5. A Thanksgiving Discourse, on the Peace. 1783. 

6. A Sermon on the Death of the Rev. Moses Parsons. Dec. 

14, 1783. 

7. Two friendly Letters to Philalethes. 1785. 

8. A Sermon at the Ordination of Rev. Timothy Dickinson, 
Feb. 18, 1789. 

9. Address to the Students of Andover Academy, July 18, 179 K 

10. Election Sermon, May 30, 1792. 

11. A Sermon before an Association at Portsmouth. 1792. 

12. A Farewel Sermon at Newbury. 1793. 

13. A Fast Sermon delivered at Cambridge and Charlestown, 

April 11, 1793. 

14. A Sermon at the Ordination of the Rev. John T. Kirkland, 

Feb. 5, 1794. 

15. A Sermon on eight persons drowned at Newbury, July 24, 

1794. 

16. A Discourse to the Class, which was graduated in 1794. 

17. A Discourse to the Class, w^hich entered in 1794. 

18. An Address to Andover Students, July, 1794. 

19. A Thanksgiving Sermon at Charlestown, Feb. 19, 1795. 

20. A Discourse on the Death of John Russell, student, Nov. 

17, 1795. 

21. A Discourse to the Class, which entered in 1796. 

22. A Sermon before the Convention of Ministers, June 1, 1797. 

23. A Fast Sermon at Boston and Charlestown, April 5, 1798. 

24. 25. Two Sermons at Plymouth, after the Ordination of the 

Rev. James Kendall, Jan. 5, 1800. 

26. A Discourse on the Death of Gen. Washington, Feb. 21, 1800. 

27. A Sermon at the Ordination of the Rev. Nathaniel H. 

Fletcher, 18 00. 

28. A Sermon on the Death of Lieut. Gov. Phillips. 1802. 

29. A Sermon at the Installation of Rev. Hezekiah Packard, 

Sept. 1802. 
50. A Discourse on the Death of Enos Hitchcock, D. D. Provi- 
dence, 1803. 

31. A Sermon on the Death of Mrs. Mary Dana, April, 1803. 

32. Lectures on Jewish Antiquities. 1807. 

33. Sermons on Important Subjects. 



DISCOURSE, 

DELIVERED AT CAMBRIDGE, 

August 29, 1803, 
AT THE FUNERAL 

OF THE 

REV. DAVID TAPPAN, D. D. 

HOLLIS PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSITY 0» 
CAMBRIDGE, 

WHO DIED ON THE snh OF AUGUST, JEt. LI. 

BY ABIEL HOLMES, A. M. 

PASTOR OF THE FIRST CHURCH IK CAMBRIDGE. 



A DISCOURSE, 

DELIVERED AT THE 

FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 

i^;-5i»;:^;;e'.»;^i^ 

Acts xi. 24. He was a good man. 

HE solemn stilness and melancholy aspect of 
this assembly, silently, but expressively, apply this 
character to the man, whose obsequies we are 
called to celebrate. Ye fix your eyes on these 
relics, and your first thought is, He %vas a good man, 
A sentiment so spontaneous and so universal, as this, 
carries with it one of the strongest evidences of its 
justness and truth. With this witness in yourselves, 
therefore, ye are already prepared to attend to the de- 
lineation of the character, and happiness, of a good 
man, with special reference to the person, whose death 
we lament, and to the occasion, which hath convened 
us in this temple. 

The person, to whom this character was applied in 
the passage now recited, was Barnabas. His very 
name denotes the benignity and sweetness of his teni- 
per ; for it was given him by his feilo^v apostles, as 
expressive of his character. He was originally a Le- 
vite, of the Island of Cyprus ; but had now become a 
sincere and zealous convert to Christianity. With the 
change of his religion, the apostles changed his name 
Joses, by surnaming him Barnabas, which signifies, 
T/ie son of consolation. At the very first time of his in- 
troduction to our notice by the sacred historian, he ap- 



4 DISCOURSE AT THE 

pears in the generous act of selling his estate, to annex 
it to the fund, which the apostles were now raising for 
the regular and stated relief of poor Christians. We 
find him next engaged in the benevolent office of in^ 
troducing Paul to the disciples at Jerusalem. When 
this Christian convert, soon after his conversion, at- 
tempted to associate with the disciples, " they were 
all afi'aid of him, and believed not that he was a disci- 
ple. But Barnabas," with that benevolence and 
kindness, for which he seems always to have been (Jis- 
tinguished, * ■ took him, and brought him to the apos^ 
ties, and declared to them how he had seen the Lord 
in the way, and that he had spoken to him, and how 
he had preached boldly at Damascus in the name of 
Jesus." The extent of the benefit often rendered to 
an individual, and through him to the wprid, by one 
such seasonable act of kindness, performed by a gootj 
man, is incalculable. 

In the next instance, Barnabas is presented to our 
view in the high character of an an^bassador of Christy 
employed on a very difficult, but most important 
mission. In Antioch, the capital of Syria, which for 
magnitude, situation, and other advantages, was the 
third city in the Roman empire,^ there had recently 
been numerous conversions to the faith of Christ. The 
converts, made in this city, were the first fruits of 
the devout Gentiles out of Palestine, Of these con- 
verts there was formed a large Christian church, 
which was considered as the parent of the Gentile 
churches. In addition to these facts, chiefly collect- 
ed from the sacred history, a credible historianf in- 

* See Benson's History of the first planting of the Christian Re\ig-, 
ion, I. 246. 

f Jos^phus. 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. & 

forms us, that there was a Jewish university in the city 
of Antioch. 'What a combination of great and good 
qualities ought that Christian minister to possess, who 
should be set for the-defence of the gospel^ in such a 
city ! No sooner did the church at Jerusalem receive 
intelligence of the success of the gospel in this Syrix 
an capital, than it sent forth Barnabas^ as the person 
be^t qualified to confirm the young converts in the 
faith ; and by his able ministrations, by his concilia- 
ting manners, and by his excellent spirit, to silence 
their adversaries. The event fully justified their 
choice. When Barnabas came to Antioch, and he- 
held the grace of God^ manifested to the Christians in 
that city, he was glad, and exhorted them all, that 
V)ith purpose of heart they ivotdd clea've to the Lord. 
The exhortation, from his mouth, was peculiarly 
graceful and energetic ; for he was a good man, and 
full of the Holy Ghost, and of faith ; and much people 
was added to the Lord^ 

In tliis amiable and excellent apostle, we discern 
some of the prominent traits of a good man. But 
this character requires a more particular delineation. 
Ji good man must not, for a moment, be imagined a 
phrase, to denote a perfect character. In an absolute 
sense there is but one good Being, that is God. There 
is not a just man upon earth, who doth good, and sin- 
neth not. Imperfection belongs to all creatures, es- 
pecially to the apostate sinners of the human race. 

When therefore any one of the sons of men is call, 
ed a good man, nothing more can be justly intended 
by the expression, than that he is prevalently, and 
habitually, a man of virtue and piety. 

A good man has radically a holy temper. By the 
apostasy, the image of God in the human soul has 



6 DISCOURSE AT THE 

become polluted and defaced. The restoration of 
this image to its original purity and glory is the grand 
design of that redemption, which is revealed and 
proclaimed in the gospel. The very name of the 
Soil of God was intended to express this design. 
T^hou shah call his name Jesus ; for he shall save his 
people from their sins. This design the apostles of 
Christ, in conformity to the spirit of their Master's 
counsel and example, kept religiously in view. The 
doctrine of Paul was the doctrine of all the apostles ; 
Our Saviour Jesus Christ gave himself for us, that he 
might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto him- 
self a pecidiar people, zealous of good works. The ac- 
tual influence of the gospel, accompanied by the Ho- 
ly Spirit, corresponds with the primary design of re- 
demption. It recovers sinners, of the most vile and 
profligate character, to a holy temper. Such iverc 
some of you : but ye are vj ashed, but ye are sanctified^ 
hut ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and 
by the Spirit of our God, The tendencies of the re- 
newed soul aie turned from sin to holiness. The 
affections of every good man are supremely fixed on 
God, the holy and perfect Being, the source and the 
centre of all happiness. Whatever therefore is dis- 
pleasing to God, is displeasing to him. He hates 
vain thoughts ; but cherishes such as are innocent, 
and especially such as are of a virtuous and holy ten- 
dency. He abhors even himself so far as he discov- 
ers himself to be opposed to God and virtue, and 
repents as in dust and ashes. Conscious of deep de- 
pravity, and of daily transgression, he entertains 
abasing sentiments of himself; and, while he takes 
tiie lo\^'est place at the footstool of God, he is hum- 
ble in his intercourse with man. Instead of cher- 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 7 

ishing a persuasion, whether erroneous or just, of 
his own superiorit}'' to other men, he is habitually in- 
clined to esteem others better than himself. He daily 
Studies to regulate his appetites and passions ; and 
desires, and prays, that every thought may be brought 
into capthity to the obedience of Christ, Such is the 
habitual temper of a good man. A holy disposition 
is radically fixed in his soul. 

A good man lives habitually a holy life. It is on- 
ly such a life, that can render it suitable to apply to 
any one this elevated name and character. Latent 
goodness there may be, which has no opportunity to 
manifest itself in visible acts. Such virtue, wher- 
ever it exists, though unseen by any human eye, is 
seen, and will be finally approved, by the Judge of all 
the earth. But with no propriety can man call any 
one good, who does not, in his life, give visible proof 
of his integrity and piety. By their fruits^ said the 
Saviour, ye shall know them, A good man out of the 
good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things » 

His piety toward God is discovered, by a reveren- 
tial respect to his name, to his character, to his 
word, to his sabbaths, to his ordinances and laws ; 
by a steady and devout performance of the duty of 
prayer, in the closet, in the family, and in the assem- 
bly of the saints ; by a deep concern for the honour of 
God, and for the interests of his kingdom ; and by 
a zealous and active endeavour to glorify him on the 
earth. 

His benevolence toward man is discovered, by an 
habitual promptitude to rejoice with the cheerful, and 
to mourn with the sorrowful ; by a readiness to for- 
give injuries, and to recompense good for evil ; by a 
uniform aim to render to all their due, and to owe no 



^ DISCOURSE AT THE 

man any thing, but love ; by doing good to all meii^ 
as he has opportunity and ability ; by treating the ac- 
tions of men with candour, and their persons with re-^ 
spect ; and by doing what in him lies to promote the 
temporal comfort, and the eternal happiness, of the 
gi'eat family of mankind* The good man is more 
than strictly righteous* Rectitude, in its common 
acceptation, is too low a standard for his virtue. He 
provides things honest^^ or beautiful, 7iot only in the sight 
of the Lord, but also in the sight of all men. He endea* 
vours, not merely to maintain such a course of con- 
duct, as shall be free from just cause of censure, but 
such a course, as shall merit commendation. Not 
satisfied witli merely giving no occasion to tJie adver^ 
sary to speak reproachfully, he is desirous by voell do- 
ing to put to silence the ignorance of foolish men. 
Not content with the insigtiificant virtue of doing no 
dishonour to God and religion, he has a sacred ambi- 
tion to let his light so shine before men, that they 
may see his good %vorks, andgUrify his Father %vho is 
in heaven* 

Deep is the origin of his moral virtue, and propor* 
tionably extensive is its influence. It arises not from 
a vague perception of the beauty of virtue ; from a 
sense of honour ; from the fear of shame ; from the 
traditions of ancestors ; from a Christian education ; 
from the hope of rewai'd ; from the fear of punish- 
ment. It springs from no such shallow or precari- 
ous sources. It takes its rise from that voell ofvoater^ 
which springs up into everlasting life. Yonder is the 
fount, fast by the throne of God. A cordial belief 
in God and in his Son Jesus Cluist, and in the great 

** sMtAii, BLom. xli. 17. 2 Cor. viii. 21. 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 9 

truths revealed in the divine word, is the source of 
the good man's virtue. How operative then, how 
incalculably extensive, must be its influence ! ** A 
vital faith in the gospel," to use the words of this 
good man, wA^, being dead, yet speaketh, *' A vital 
faith in the gospel is a leading act and instrument of 
moral goodness. It sets before us the most correct 
and sublime standard of duty ; it awakens sincere de- 
sires and eflforts to reach it ; while it gives to these ef- 
forts encouragement and strength, perseverance and 
success. By bringing pardon to the penitent, and 
grace to the humble; by engaging divine power to 
uphold, and eternal life to reward the faithful Chris- 
tian, it inspires him with invincible courage and ac- 
tivity in the pursuit of perfection and glory. His 
sincere trust in and loyalty to Christ secure a virtu- 
ous improvement of all his talents, a diligent fulfil- 
ment of all his engagements, whether civil or relig- 
ious, and a steady performance of the various duties, 
w^hich his particular calling or relations impose.'* 
These are but the outlines of the character of a good 
man. In his life we see them filled up, and shining 
forth, in all the beauties of holiness. 

His happiness must be summarily noticed. It is a 
happiness, that partly results from his temper and 
character in this life ; and which will be rendered 
complete and perfect in the life to come. A good 
man, saith Solomon, shall be satisfied from himself. 
No man has such resources for comfort, and for ra- 
tional enjoyment, as the man of religion. Such re- 
sources ! The irreligious man has none. Having no 
hope, and ijoithout God in the ivorld, he can have noth- 
ing, which can give him happiness or repose. He is 

E 



iO BISeOURSE AT THE 

like the troubled sea, vjheji it cannot rest. His unhal- 
lowed passions, and upbraiding conscience, must per- 
petually agitate or torment him. The decree of 
Heaven too hath determined this awful destiny. There 
is no peace, saith my Gad, to the ivicked. 

But the good man has perpetual resources of com- 
fort and happiness. The regulation of his passions 
and appetites is propitious to his tranquillity and 
peace j the approbation of his conscience gives him 
pleasure, with which a stranger doth not intermeddle ; 
the hope of pardon and of '* the applauding smile of 
Heaven' ' inspires him with holy and elevated de- 
light ; and the prospect of the perfection of his spir- 
it and of the completion of his felicity, in the para- 
dise of God, fills him 'voith joy unspeakable and fidl 
of glory. 

WhUe the good man has such, sources ^ as tliese, 
for comfort in life ; he has hope in death. At that 
solemn and eventful period, w^hen the w^orld re- 
cedes, and its fairest prospects vanish ; he is able to 
look up, and to lift up his head, for his redemption 
draiveth nigh. He is willing that his earthly house of 
this tabernacle should be dissohed ; because he has a 
building of God, an house not made ivith hands, eternal 
in the hea^uens. Death, in his view, is not a king of 
'terrors, but a messenger of peace. In the language 
of sacred triumph, he exclaims : O death, %vhere is 
thy sting ? grave, i\)here is thy mctory ? I ha^oe 
fought a good fight ; I hai}e finished my course ; I have 
kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a 
croivn of righteousness, %vhich the Lord^ the righteous 
Judge, shall give me at that day. I have a desire to 
depart, and to be voith Christ, vohich is far better^ 
Even so, come, Lord Jesus. 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 11 

These are but the harbingers of that bHss, ^\hich 
is reserved for the good man in heaven. There his 
felicity will be completed. There the holy tenden- 
cies of his soul will be carried into full effect. When 
he shall mingle with the spirits o^ just men fnadc per- 
fect, his OM n spirit shall attain peifection in holiness. 
Casting his crown before the throne, he shall unite 
with all the ransomed of the Lord in ascriptions of 
praise unto him who loved them, and washed them 
f'om their sins in his own blood ; and shall partake 
with tliem in that fulness of joy, which is in the 
presence of God, ^niAmXhost pleasures , which are at 
his right hand for evermore. 

In that pleniiude of joy, in those everlasting pleas- 
ures, the spirit of our departed friend is, we trust, 
now participating ; for he was a good man. 

He appeared radically to possess a holy temper. The 
habitual tendencies of his soul seemed to be towai'd God 
and religion. He always discovered a quick sensibility 
to right and wrong, to holiness and sin. Actions in any 
respect praiseworthy gave him delight, which he \^as 
neither desirous nor able to conceal. Signal acts of 
beneficence, or of piety, awakened in his bosom strong 
emotions of pleasure, and received his ardent commen- 
dation. The vices of individuals, especially flagrant and 
prevalent sins, excited at once his grief and abhorrence. 
It was very apparent, that siji, ^vhether committed by oth- 
ers or by himself, was in his view exceeding sinful. 
Hence he appears to have been excited to keep 'his owfi 
heart with all diligence / to stand in awe, and sin not. He 
was equally prompt and skilful to avail himself of every 
occun-ence for infusing religious instruction into the 
mind, or for impressing it on the heart. He singularly 
e;H:emplified the apostolical precept : Let your speech be 



12 DISCOURSE AT THE 

alway ivith grace ^ seasoned with salt^ that ye may know 
how ye ought to answer every man. He seemed to have no 
greater joy^ than to see men walking in truths and to aid 
them in a holy course. He had his own conversation in 
heaven^ and was studious to raise that of others to the 
same sacred height. If then the treasure determines 
where the heart is ; if the fruit designates the quality of 
the tree ; if the stream demonstrates the nature of the 
fountain ; we have just ground to conclude, that he had 
a holy temper ; that a sanctified heart was the vital prin- 
ciple of his religion ; that he was horn^ not of bloody nor 
of the ivill of the fleshy nor of the will ofman^ but of God. 

This conclusion is justified by the holiness of his life. 
In the performance of the duties of piety he was uni- 
formly exemplary. As his heart was engaged, so his 
life was occupied, about his Fathers business. The 
honour of God and of his Son Jesus Christ, and the ad- 
vancement of the Christian cause, were objects dear to 
his soul ; and to the promotion of them he was zealous- 
ly devoted. 

In the performance of moral and relative duties, he 
was upright and faithful. His benevolence to mankind 
was habitually shown, by his tender sympathy in their 
distresses ; by his readiness to relieve their temporal or 
spiritual wants ; by his generous hospitality ; and espe- 
cially by his unabating desire and aim to bring all men, 
who were within the reach of his influence, to the knowl- 
edge of the truth, that they might be saved. His re- 
ligion, derived from the fountain of purity, was pure and 
tindefiledm its nature, extensive and sublime in its in- 
fluence. It inspired him with a philanthropy, which 
counterfeit virtue can never feign. It prompted him, to 
do justly^ and to love mercy ^ and to walk humbly with his 
God; to visit the fatherless and widows^ in their afflic- 
tion ; and to keep himself unspotted from the world. 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 13 

His mental powers, and his literary attainments, ac- 
companied and sanctified by such eminent virtue and 
piety, signally qualified him for those high stations, 
which were assigned to him by the great Head of the 
church. His mind was distinguished for its vigour and 
activity. It was much employed in deep contempla- 
tion ; and was fertile in thoughts, at once original and 
entertaining, solid and refined, practical and useful. 
While he thought for himself, he was respectfully and 
delicately attentive to the sentiments of those, with 
whom he conversed. His unaffected modesty, which 
never forsook him, rendered him stvift to hear, slow to 
speak. 

He acquired his choicest learning in the school of that 
divine Teacher, who v^^as meek and lowly in heart. 
There he imbibed the spirit of his Master. To those 
great sentiments, which he firmly believed, and ably 
vindicated, he never authoritatively demanded the assent 
of others. If a subject were of small importance, 
he made the most generous allowance for that di^^ersity 
of opinion, which, among imperfect beings, of different 
dispositions, education, and habits, seems inevitable. 
His candour was, accordingly, equal to his humility. 
In disputation he was neither virulent, nor captious. 
Disregarding what affected not the merits of the ques- 
tion, he fastened his attention on those great points, by 
which the question must plainly be decided. Here he 
displayed ingenuity of address, manliness of thought, 
and cogency of argument. Open and generous, he ap- 
peared honestly to contend, not for victory, but for 
truth. 

With such an understanding and heart, united to tlie 
propitious opportunities and means of improvement, 
Avhich he enjoyed at the university wliile a student, and 



14 DISCOURSE Xl^^tHE 

in his subsequent intercourse with literary men, he 
made high attainments in useful knowledge, especially 
in theology. To this sacred science his own pious 
dispositions, in connection with the profession to which 
he early devoted himself, naturally pointed his primary 
attention, and assiduous stud}^ 

After having served God in the gospel of his Son with 
all good fidelity eighteen years, among a people, who 
were affectionately attached to his person, and fond- 
ly delighted, as well as instructively edified, by his min-r 
istry ; he was called forth to a higher and more exten- 
sive sphere of action. The rare assemblage of virtues 
and talents, which he possessed, knd the celebrity of 
character, as a theologian, which he had npw acquired, 
attracted the attention of Harvard University ; and by 
the legislature of this Seminary he was chosen its Pro- 
fessor of Divinitv. 

More than ten years, he statedly performed the ardu- 
ous duties of this very important office. With what 
ability and fidelity he discharged them, it were difficult 
for me to recite, and superfluous for you to hear. My 
voice can add nothing to his eulogium. His praise is 
in all the churches. Within the University he has left 
a memorial of his worth, more durable and more hono- 
rary than the monumental marble. Let it simply be 
remarked, that he was singularly diligent and laborious 
in the composition of his theological Lectures ; that 
these Discom-ses embraced the entire body of divinity ; 
that the order of them was natural and lucid ; that the 
manner of their composure was a happy union of the ar- 
gumentative and persuasive ; that, together with con- 
vincing demonstrations of truth, they contained judicious 
refutations of error ; that both their matter and form 
were discreetly adapted to the youthful and inquisitive 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 15 

auditory, to which they were addressed ; that they were 
l^ronouiiced with a seriousness and energ}% wliich evin- 
ced the sincerity of the speaker ; and that they a\ ere 
admirably calculated to form enlightened divines, and 
practical Christians. 

As a preacher, his talents and character are too well 
known, to require elucidation. I cannot forbear how- 
ever from remarking, that his discourses in the pulpit 
were uniformly such, as became a Christian minister. 
They were evangelical discourses, not moral essays. 
The great truths, which they contained, were derived, 
not from the philosophy of Plato, of Epictetus, or of Sen- 
eca, nor from the boasted oracle of human reason ; but 
from the deep fountains of th-aX grace and truths which 
came by Jesus Christ. He taught the depravation of 
the heart ; the necessity of its renovation by the Spirit 
of God ; together Avith the utility and importance of the 
instituted means of religion. ]^e greatly insisted on 
the divine character and missiofi, on the death and me- 
diation, on the atonement and intercession, of Jesus 
Christ the Saviour. He often inculcated the duties of 
faith in Christ, repentance for sin, and a holy life, as es- 
sential to salvation. While he addressed religious 
truth to the understanding, he closely applied it to tlie 
conscience. The disguises of the heart he skilfully de- 
tected ; its latent foldings he admirably penetrated. He 
reduced tlie sinner to such dilemmas ; he so glai^ingly 
exposed the treachery of the false professor of religion, 
and the inconstancy of the true believer ; that it was diffi- 
cult for eidier to suppress the consciousness of guilt, and 
the confusion of sliame. On retiring from this temple, 
after attending his ministrations, the address of Louis 
XIV. to the eloquent bishop of Clermont, after heaiing 
him preach at Versailles, has often occurred to me : 
" Father, I have heard many great orators in this chap- 



16 DISCOURSE AT THE 

el ; I have been highly pleased with them ; but for you, 
whenever I hear you, I go away displeased with myself; 
for I see more of my own character." 

A^Hiile he thus alarmed conscious guilt, and con- 
founded hypocrisy and impiety ; he with wonderful 
facility encouraged the sincere, though feeble, tenden- 
cies to virtue, and poured the balm of comfort into the 
contrite heart. In conformity to the example of his 
great Master, a bruised reed did he not break ; and the 
smoakingflax did he not quench. He took peculiar ^'t- 
light in preaching good tidings to the meek; in binding 
up the broken hearted ; in proclaiming liberty to the cap- 
tives, and the ^opening of the prison to them ivho are 
bound. He was a Barnabas, a son of consolation. 

While his public ministrations were uniformly inter- 
esting and impressive ; his devotional exercises and 
discourses, on special occasions, were truly admirable. 
He intuitively discerned, and promptly seized, what 
would create in his auditory the deepest interest, and 
give to his discourse the liveliest impression ; and em- 
ployed the imagination and the senses, as handmaids to 
devotion and virtue. The weight and importance of 
his doctrines ; the fertility and justness of his thoughts ; 
the pertinency and beauty of his metaphors ; the vig- 
our and elegance of his st}^le ; the simplicity and pa- 
thos of his elocution ; commanded the profound atten- 
tion of his auditors. But he possessed one advantage, 
incomparably superior to all these combined excellen- 
cies, an advantage, which rendered his discourses irre- 
sistibly commanding and persuasive ; He %vas a good 
man. 

With such rare qualifications for the ministiy, and 
with a heart filled with philanthropy, and animated w^th 
zeal to do good, it ^vas natural for ministers, and for 
churches, in their afflictions or exigencies, to solicit his 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 17 

solace and his aid. Such sohcitations he knew not 
how to resist. To his power fl bear recordj, yea, and 
beyond his poijoer^ he was willing of himself . Alas ! To 
this benevolent and pious charity he made the 
costly oblation of his last service. It was in the church 
at Brattle-Street* that he performed his last labour of 
lome. Previously debilitated, he was inadequate to the 
public services of religion in that large edifice, and in a 
great assembly. The administration of the Lord's Sup- 
per increased the labours of that solemn day. From 
the sanctuary of God he repaired to his own home ; re- 
tired to his chamber ; sickened, and expired. 

During his illness, he bore plenary testimony to those 
great truths of religion, which had been the chosen sub- 
jects of his ministry, and the sacred rule of his life. In 
an early stage of his sickness, his " hope," to use his 
own language, *' was intermingled with overwhelming 
confusion, sorrow and shame." In its later stages, 
his disease was less spasmodic than it had previously 
been, and his mind was more tranquil. Among other 
interesting observations, he said; '* The doctrines of 
grace, which contemplate men as sinners, and as re- 
quiring an infinite atonement, are the doctrines, which 
I must live and die by." On the morning of the day 
previous to his death, he had intimation of his danger, f 

* In Boston, vacant by the death of the Rev. Dr. Tha-cher. 

f He asked me. Whether I was able to collect any thing special fi'om the 
physicians concerning- his case. 1 told him, that I had not seen his physi- 
cians that morning ; but gave him my own opinion of his danger, and ad- 
vised him, if there were any thing on his mind, relating to his temporal or 
spiritual concerns, that he wished to disclose, to disclose it. He thanked 
me for the suggestion, and said, he would avail himself of it. He accord- 
ingly, during the day, addressed religious advice to his children, and took 
leave of his family.— His relapse from a hopeful projrwft toward recovery 



,ljB DISCOURSE AT THE 

Having, in a conversation that ensued, expressed his 
^(^bristian hope ; he was asked, Whether he did not 
build that hope on the cornerstone laid in Sion^ elect and 
precious, '' If I do not trust there,'' he replied, '* I 
know not in what I do trust. I have nothing else to 
Artist in. Lord!: to %vh&m shall I go? Thou hast the 
4}prds of.eter?2al iife,^\ He was able to speak . but , lit; 
tie, during the day. After a prayer with him in the 
eyening, he was more collected, and more capable of 
conversing, than he had been since the morning. 
,^^In this conversation (alas, the last f) he said ; "1 be^ 
lieve the necessity of a conformity of heart to the truths 
jof. the gospeL" On being asked concerning his hope, 
Tie "replied, '' My hope is, that I possess the Christian 
temper j" th^n pausing a little, he added, '*A11 my 
Tiopes are founded on the infinite mercy of God, and the 
perfect character and atonement of Christ.*' The next 
morning, he knew not his earthly friends ; but he seem- 

Hd still to hno%\) m %vhom he believed. At the close of 

■♦- - ' " , .... 

prayer by his bedside, his eyes were steadfastly direct- 
4sd toward heaven ; his lips gently moved — in that act 
liis immortal spirit departed. 

' Shall ^A^, %vho are n.mse^ shine as the brightness of the 
Jirinament ; and they ^ vjho turn many to righteousness y as 
the stars fore'oer and ever ? Such, we believe, will be 
his everlasting splendour. Does one star differ from 
another^ star. in glory J, Of the first magnitude, and of the 

Va^ surprising- to others ; and the intimation of his danger was apparently 
unexpected to himself. ' The manner y iii which he received it, furnishes 
'accasion for stricture on that false tenderness, which conceals froi?i the 
^ick their danger, and from the dying the approach of death. If the sick 
person be prepared for death, he may, by being seasonably apprized of his 
'danger, have opportunity to impart usefulcounsels, and to show ** in what 
peace a Christian can die." If he be unprepared, how spurious is that 
(rfendship, which- steals away the remnant of his time, by deceptive artifi- 
ces, until there is no place of repentancey though he seek it carefully ivith tears / 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. fg 

strongest lustre, we are persuaded, mil be this lumi- 
nary. • ^ 
- To us, alas, it is extinguished ! What a gloom does 
that extinction throw over a bereaved family, over the 
university, over this church and the churches in general, 
^nd over our commonwealth, and countrj- ! ' i 
With the afflicted Widow we tenderly sympathize^; 
iand devoutly commend her to that Being, who hath, 
with condescension as consoling as it is wonderful, styl- 
ed himself a Judge of the ividmvs in his holy habitation. 
The bereaved Ghildi-en we commend to Him, in ivhom 
the fatherless find mercy ; to Him, who hath said, limit 
not leai)eyou orphans ;^ I miill come unto you. Ye have 
been taught by the counsel and example of a pious 
husband and father, how to suffer affliction. Remem- 
ber that counsel ; follow that example ; and ye will find 
strong consolation^ and great religious improvement. 
For the aged Mother, honoured and blest with one of 
the best of Sons, but surviving to witness the affecting 
scene of this day, we implore the benediction and 
solace of Almighty God. May He be htr present help In 
trouble ; her shield, to defend her ; her staff, to sustain 
lier ; and her exceeding great re%vard. May the surviv- 
ing brethren and sisters receive support and comfort 
from on high ; and regard the heavenly admonition, eni^ 
phatically addressed to them : Be ye also ready. 

To the University we present our respectful and 
affectionate condolence. With the worthy President, 
professors, and Tutors, we sincerely mourn, in the loss 
of their highly estimable friend, and very able and im- 
portant auxiliary. May they, together with the Hon« 
curable and Reverend Members of the College Legisla- 

*ce^^xm> John xiv. 18. 



20 ' DISCOURSE AT THE 

ture, religiously observe this affecting and monitory- 
event. 

With the Students of the University we feel a sympa- 
thy, too deep for utterance. Ye have lost a friend and 
a father. Your spiritual guide, your moral and relig- 
ious teacher is no more. His public and private in- 
structions ; his paternal advices and admonitions ; his 
benign aspect ; his sensibility to your best interests ; 
his condescending and benevolent offices ; all rush into 
your view, and overwhelm your hearts. Your tears 
flow. Ye sorrow most of all, that ye shall see his face 
no more. But let me not swell that tide of grief, already 
full. Remember how ye have received and heard, and 
hold fast, and repent. Let the instructions and counsels 
of that man of God, at w^hose feet ye have sitten with 
delight, be indelibly impressed on your memories, and 
perpetually influential on your lives. ^ If ye respected 
him, if ye loved him, if ye applauded him, while living; 
if ye would honour his name and memory, when dead ; 
be what he taught and exhorted you to be ;- be what it 
was \i\^ hearfs desire and prayer to God, tliat ye might 
be ; be what he was. He was a good man. Be ye fol- 
lowers of him in his diligence ; in his activity ; in his 
meekness ; in his humility ; in his candour ; in his be- 
nevolence ; in his piety. So shall ye obtain the good 
man's reward. Ye shall be blessings and ornaments to 
society : ye shall secure the approbation and applause of 
afl the virtuous and the good ; ye shall obtain fawur of 
the Lord; ye shall have comfort in life, hope in death, 
and immortal glory. 

The people of my Pastoral Charge will deeply bewail 
with me the removal of a good citizen, a good neighbour, 
a good man, from the bosom of our society. May we, 
dearly beloved, be, unitedly humbled under that divine 



FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 21 

Stroke, which has deprived us of so rich and invaluable 
a blessing. His benevolent offices shall not be forgot- 
ten. May his kind and feithful ministrations in this sa- 
cred desk be specially remembered to our everlasting 

benefit ! Our sister churches in the capital, and in 

our vicinity, must peculiarly lament the death of the good 
man, from whom they have often received rich instruc- 
tion and seasonable comfort. The church, to which he 
formerly ministered in holy things, will affectionately 
remember her once loved pastor ; and mingle her tears 
with ours. Nor will any of the churches of New Eng-^ 
land be unmoved at the loss of one of their fairest orna- 
ments and firmest pillars. 

The Commonwealth must mourn the loss of this good 
man, who honoured her magistrates, vindicated her 
interests, and supported her laws, 

My fathers and brethren in the Ministry ! Too sensi- 
bly and tenderly do I feel my own loss, to remind you 
of yours. Has not our glory departed ? Let us cherish 
a sacred ambition, that it may be revived in us. How 
can it otherwise be revived, than by pur assuming, and 
daily observing, that divine motto, which he selected 

for us : HOLINESS TO THE LORD !* 

What a deep gloom will be thrown over the approach- 
ing Anniversary Tf How quick the transition from these 
funeral rites to the effusions of genius and science; 
from the darksome tomb to the literary festival ! Let 
this mixture of various and opposite actions and events 
teach us impressively, to let our moderation be always 
known ; and to use^ as not abusing^ this worlds the fash^ 
ion of which passeth away. In the midst of our com- 

* The text of his Sermon before the Convention of Ministers, A. D. 1797. 
f The public Commencement, in the ensuing week. 



22 • FUNERALS DrSGOURSE. 

forts and pleasures let us ever remember, that iti'tkc 
garden there is a sepulchre. 

The removal of this good man, my respected audit- 
ors, poiuts us to yonder world; and admonishes us to 
be ready for our proper home. A voice seems to break 
from his lips, for the last time ; Arise, let us gq 

HENCE. 



SEEMONS 



BY 



DAVID TAPPAN, D. D. 



.c 



©ermon i. 



On Christian ZeaL 



Revelation iii. 19; Be zealous. 

HESE words are part of our Lord's epistle to 
the church of Laodicea, one of the seven churches of 
Asia Minor, to each of which the King of Zion ad* 
dresses counsels and admonitions, reproofs or praises, 
suited to its pecuUar character and states The letter 
before us begins with a concise description of the nioral 
state of this church. It represents her as neither cold 
nor hot, but as lukewarm or indifferent in religion, and 
expresses the divine abhorrence of such a disposition. 
In the text it exhorts her to be zealous in religion, in 
opposition to her present deadness and formality. 

As this Laodicean indifference in religious con- 
cerns marks too many nominal Christians at this day ; 
while others are misled by a spirit of false zeal ; a crit- 
ical attention to this subject may be equally seasonable 
and advantageous. Let us, therefore, distinctly consid- 
er the nature, obligation and importance of Clxristian 
zeal. 

Zeal is an equivocal term, equally capable of a good 
and bad significatipn. It is not so properly one partic- 
ular passion, as the heat or fervour of the affections in 
general. The original word rendered zealous signifies 
exceedingly hot; which imports a vehement exercise of 
the passions. Zeal then is either good or bad, accord- 
ing to its direction and management. Accordingly, 

G 



ji O^ CHRISTIAN ZEAL. [Ser. t 

the sacred writers frequently use the term in an ill sense, 
and sometimes in a virttious one. St. Paul reckons it 
among the works of the fleshy that is, those vices which 
characterize the carnal and ungodly world. *' The 
works of the fl^h ^^ hatred, strife, emulation,'' or zeal* 
So the eTVuying, the bitter envying condemned by St. 
James is, in the original, zeal. The reason, why it is 
so often placed among the vices, is because the heat of 
human passions is for the most part irregular, either in 
its motive and object, or in its manner and degree o/c|)- 
eration. Zeal becomes a virtue, only .when om* aftec^ 
tions are fixed on proper objects, and suited, in man- 
ner and measure of exercise, to their nature and impor- 
tance. 

Gentiine Christian zeal takes its rise in a well regulat- 
ed or sanctified heart, and is equally opposed to careless 
indolence, and to a selfish, noisy, or censorious vehe- 
mence. It is a meek aiMi humble, a kind and gentle 
flame, as full of tenderness and goodness^ as it is of 
ardbur and boldness. It is, in the first place, enlighten- 
ed and directed by knowledge^ Zeal^ without this, is a 
blind and brutal impetuosity, w^hich tends to precipitate 
its subject into an endless labyrinth of error, irregularity 
and mischief. A weak and ignorant mind and strong 
passions form a dreadful compound, and threaten de- 
plorable consequences. If a man for want of knowledge 
think that to be the cause of God, which is directly the 
reverse, or that to be heretical or sinful, which is impor- 
tant truth or duty, it is evident that the more zealously 
he exerts himself in favour of the one, or in opposition 
to the other, in the same proportion lie builds up false- 
hood and vice upon the ruins of truth and virtue. 
Where there is great heat and no light, it cannot be that 
illuminating fire which descendeth from above ; but is 



Ser. I.] ON CHRISTIAN ZEAt. t 

rather that dark, polluted flame, which fumes up from be* 
neath, which is earthly, sensual, diabolical. Such was 
the zeal of the bulk of the Jews in the apostolic age : 
** they had a zeal for God, but not according to know!* 
edge. " They ha4a glowing fervour in maintaining those 
legal rites, which God himself liad ordained ; and from 
the impulse of this zeal for the law, they rejected Christ 
and his gospel, not knowing, as they might, or ought 
to have done, that he was the end of the law for right- 
eousness to every one that believeth. Thus the religious 
zeal of that generation, and of succeeding Jews to this 
day, was and is no better than blind, raging, obdurate 
infidelity. A clear and sound knowledge of the object 
is, therefore, essential to regular and virtuous zeal. 

Secondly, it must also be tempered with prudence. 
For though the object of it be good, yet if there be not 
discretion to moderate and direct its career, it will be- 
come a pernicious and ungovernable fury, even in a vir- 
tuous cause, In the midst of the most pious zeal we 
have constant need of that caution, " Be ye wise as 
serpents, and harmless as doves." Prudence must ad- 
just our religious ardour to the real weight and impor- 
tance of things ; lest like the ancient Pharisees, we ex- 
haust our zeal upon the outlines and appendages of reli- 
gion, and become regardless of its vital and essential 
branches. Great heat about circumstantials, and cold- 
ness respecting the substance of virtue and piety, argue 
either great ignorance or gross hypocrisy. Prudence 
must also direct our zeal in the choice of means for ac- 
complishing our end. No pretended zeal for a good 
end can sanctify or warrant a bad action. It is a vicious, 
not a virtuous zeal to do evil that good may come ; to 
abdicate truth, justice, decency or honour, for the sake 
of suppressing error and vice, or for defending, or prop- 



6 ©N CHRISTIAN ZEAL. ^S*ji.;i. 

agating Christian truth and righteousness. This is to 
commit sin ourselves in the support and under the mask 
of holiness ; it is to stab religion with the very weapons 
we employ in its defence. Hence Job condemus such 
conduct in language of mingled surprise and detestation* 
*' Will ye speak wickedly for Gop ? Qr talk deceitfully 
for him ?" Prudence must likewise temper the degree 
of our ^eal and its mode of operation. Though both our 
end and means be of the best Jcind ; yet the flame of our 
passions, whpn wrought up to a high pitch, Avill greatly 
endanger both qurselves and pur cause, unless Christian 
discretion guard pur temper and conduct. Hence the 
apostle reproves the zeal pf the Corinthians, even in the 
exercise of their extraordinaiy spiritual gifts, because, 
for want of wise regulation, it produced great disorder in 
their religious assemblies ; such as one speaking in ax\ 
unknown tongue, a second singing, a third teacliing, 
another uttering a revelation, and even their women 
speaking \n the cl^urch ? upon which he remarks, " If a 
stranger should come in among you, will he not say, y^ 
are mad ?" And proceeds to exhort them, and through 
them all succeeding Christians \ " Let all your things 
be done to edifying j" "let all things be done decently 
and in order," 

Thirdly. Zeal must ever be accompanied with 
charity. Charity or love, considered in its due extent, is 
the principal and most lovely grace of Christianity ; and 
all religion is nothing without it. It must not there* 
fore be injured or sacrificed on every little occasion. It 
must not be violated on axiy occasion, merely to gratify 
our own humour or passions. We are commanded to 
follow peace with all men, and to give up ^very thing 
but truth and holiness for the sake of pleasing and edify- 
ing ouf brethren. In short, as true zeal is but the fire^ . 



&EIL.I.J ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. 7* 

of love, the ardour of Cliristian benevolence ; so when 
it is pointed even against dangerous error, against scan» 
dalous and destructive wickedness, it assumes a mild 
and composed, a tender and compassionate air, and thus 
discovers a warm affection to the person of the heretic 
or transgressor, a pungent grief for his sin and danger, 
and an earnest desire of his reformation and welfare, 
while it faithfully testifies against his fatal principles and 
conduct. Both prudence and charity demand the most 
kind and tender treatment, even of the most bitter 
enemies to gospel truth and holiness ; since this is the 
only promising method of rescuing them from their pre- 
sent dangerous condition. Besides, it is a shocking in- 
congruity to display an angry, overbearing or persecut- 
ing zeal in defending and enforcing those Christian 
doctrines and duties, which breathe nothing but love 
and peace, which reveal the astonishing benevolence 
and grace of God, and inculcate a corresponding temper 
on man ! Such an ungracious zeal for the doctrines of 
grace is self contradictory and self condemned ; it proves 
its possessors to be strangers to the hearty belief and vi^ 
tal influence of these doctrines, and of course ranks them 
in the black catalogue of practical infidels and hypocrites. 
This leads us to add, that as true religious zeal origi- 
nates in right affections of heart ; so it always begins its 
reformation at home. The subject of it first casts the 
beam from his own eye : his first and highest indigna- 
tion is pointed against his own faults, and is vigorously 
exerted for his personal correction and moral improve- 
ment. It is absurd to imagine that a person can truly 
hate sin in others, if he fondly cherishes or spares it in 
himself; or that he can earnestly seek the amendment 
and welfare of his neighbour or the public, if he have no 
reg^d to his own. But when a man is properly zeal- 



S ON tHRISTIAN ZEAL. {i^%tf. 

cus at home, he will, by natural consequence, extend 
his charity abroad. He will be zealous of good works, 
both in himself and others. True benevolence joined 
with piety will quicken his zeal, both against the sin, 
and for the happiness of all around. David was grieved, 
yea, poured out rivers of tears, when he beheld trans? 
gressors. Lot was vexed w^ith the filthy conversation of 
the wicked Sodomites, Paul's spirit was inflamed with- 
in him, at the sight of Athenian idolatry. The 
church of Ephesus is conimended for not being able to 
bear them that are evil, and for trying and excommuni- 
eating false hearted professors, jDur Saviour himself 
■with holy severity drove the money changers out of the 
temple, and thus, verified that prophetic passage, ** the 
zeal of thine house hath eaten me up." In conformity 
to these examples, true zeal will prompt the most ear- 
nest, yet prudent efforts for tlie instruction and reforma- 
tion, for the present and everlasting interests of man- 
kind. 

Having explained the nature of the duty enjoined, we 
shall now illustrate the obligations^ which urge us to 
practise it. 

First, the importance of religion deserves this zeal. 
If natural and revealed religion be true, it it the great- 
est and most interesting of all truths, and therefore mer- 
its our most zealous regard. If there be a God, as 
natural religion teaches, he is certainly the most glorious 
and perfect of all beings,- and sustains the most impor- 
tant relations to us. Now 4s it fit that we should treat 
such a Being with cold indifference f That we shoul4 
feel and express no warm emotion of love, gratitude, 
and veneration towards supreme, original beauty, good* 
ness and greatness ? Is it not reasonable that we should 
admire consummate wisdom, reverence omnipotent 



^£R.I.J 6N CHRISTIAN ZEAL, p 

f)ovver, fear and confide in impaitial justice, tempered 
with infinite mercy, gratefully adore unbounded bcnefi-* 
cence, constantly imitate and delight in perfect moral 
recutude and glory ; that we should studiously 
seek the friendship, and avoid the displeasure of u Be- 
ing, whose favour is life, and whose anger is death ? If 
God be our Supreme Father, ought we not to pay him 
the highest tokens of filial regard ? If he be our Ruler 
and Judge, ought we not to yield him our cordial sub- 
jection and zealous obedience ? Should it not be our 
main concern to obtain his final approving sentence ? 
To be zealous in our regards to the Deity, is the first 
dictate of reason and moral propriety ; but to treat the 
important character^ relations, and approbation of such 
a Being, with unfeeling neglect, is the greatest incon- 
sistency, madness, aixl wickedness, w^hich rational crea- 
tures can commit. 

Again, the revealed perfections, offices, and benefits 
of Jesus Christ, loudly claim our pious and gratefid 
zeaL To believe Jesus Christ to be the Son of God, 
and yet trample him under our feet ; to own him as our 
divine Prophet, and yet despise" his instructions ; our 
great High Priest, and yet undervalue his atoning blood ; 
our divine King ; and yet neglect or insult his authori- 
ty and laws ; our only and all sufficient Saviour, and yet 
conduct as if we did not need, or could not safely trust 
his mediation ; w^hat shocking incongruities are these ! 
Yet this is the true picture of the lukewarm professor 
of Christianity ! He believes that Christ has exhibited 
the greatest loye to sinful and wretched man, that ever 
was known ; yet he feels no return.s of love, no ardent 
sentiments of gratitude to this Philanthropist ! He can 
heartily esteem and thank a generous friend, v ho has 
made great exertions or sacrifices for his happij:iess ; 



10 ON GHRlSTIA^ ZEAL. [Ser-I* 

he <ian ^Imdst adore the disinterested patriot, who has 
worii but his Hfe iii the service of his country ; yet he 
regards with indifference that great Friend of souls, who 
was nailed to the cross for his own rebellious creatures, 
and submitted to immense labour, humiliation, and suf- 
ferings for their salvation I Can any thing be more ab- 
surd aiYi abominable than this ? Do not such miracles 
of condescending and expensive love, as the gospel dis- 
plays, demand the most ardent and admiring gratitude ? 
Yes, 

** Passion is reason, transport temper here.** 

Further, That future, eternal state of retribution, w^hich 
religion reveals^ challenges our ziealous attention. To 
believe in a future happiness reserved for the righteous^ 
a happiness large as our utmost capacities and wishes, 
and lasting as our immortal spirits ; to believe also in a 
contrasted state of misery of equal intenseness and du- 
ration, destined for the finally impenitent ; and yet prac- 
tically to regard both the one and the other as consum- 
mate trifles ; to estimate the momentary pleasures and, 
pains of a dying life, above the perfect joys and sorrows 
of eternity, is certainly the most prodigious inconsist- 
ency and madness ! Those Christian professors, who 
act in this manner, do either really believe in these fu- 
ture scenes, or they do not. If the latter, they are not 
only inexcusably blind and hardened infidels, who have 
resisted the clear light of reason, conscience, and revela* 
tion, but they are likewise guilty of trifling both with God 
and man, by a mock profession, which is contradicted by 
their sentiments, as well as their practice. If the form- 
er, they are still more inconsistent and monstrous ; for 
they believe and trifle ; while the very devils believe and 
tremble. Surely endless, inconceivable blessedness and 
miseiy are sufiicientiy important to require the most 



Ser. I] ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. H 

solemn, earnest, unremitted attention of those, who must 
quickly inherit the one or the other ! 

As the leading doctrines of religion^ so its various 
duties demand our utmost zeal. The offices of piety, 
which we owe to God and his Son, should be animated 
with the greatest warmth and vigour of afiection. Rea- 
son as well, as revelation requires us to love him with 
all our heart, and soul, and mind, and strength ; to fear 
and trust, to worship and obey him, with the greatest 
possible reverence and delight ; to mention his glorious 
name with awful admiration ; to read and hear his word 
with an esteem, love, and submission becoming the maj- 
esty of the Author, and the greatness of the Master; to 
confess our sins to him with the deepest contrition ; to 
beg his forgiving and saving mercy with fervent impor- 
tunity ; and to celebrate his benefits with the most live- 
ly thankfulness. Reason and Scripture also demand, 
that our relative and moral duties, our works of justice* 
and charity be performed in good earnest, in the exer- 
cise of that hearty and zealous love to our neighbour, 
which regards him, as another self, and seeks his good, 
as our own. In a word, zeal in religious and moral du* 
ties constitutes their very life ; for as the essence of vir*- 
tue lies in fervent love to God and man, it follows, that 
a cold, indifferent temper destroys the very spirit both 
of piety and morality, and turns them into a mere car- 
case without the soul. Hence the Scriptures constantly 
describe the Christian life, as one continued effort of la- 
borious zeal ; as a race, a fight, an agony ; which 
leads us to observe, 

Secondly, That as the excellence and importance of 
religion deserve our zeal, so the difficulties attending it 
render this zeal absolutely necessary. The service is 
so arduous, attended with so many self-denying duties, 

H 



1^ ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL, [Ser.I. 

and with such various, powerful, and discouraging oppo- 
sition ; that, unless we possess a large fund of holy zeal 
and vigour, we shall be apt to tire, despond, and give 
over the conflict. A deliberate, confirmed zeal must 
furnish the weapons and sinews of this spk itual wai'fare. 
Under its animating and fortifying influence we must 
run, and not be weary ; and walk,, and not faint. 

Thirdly.. We can have no comforting evidence of 
our own sincerity, without a becoming fervour in relig- 
ion. For w^here the object is so great and momentous, a 
sincere concern about it must imply zealous regard ; of 
course the want,, or even decay of this must destroy, or 
at least darken our religious evidences and prospects, 
and check the delightful consciousness of our Christian 
integrity. 

Fourthly. Our usefulness to the Christian cause and 
to the best interests of mankind depends on our compli- 
ance w ith the precept before us. If religious profes- 
sors m-e not zealous in their holy calling, instead of prop- 
erly exemplifying and recommending Christianity, they 
will hold it up to the world in a suspicious, if not con- 
temptible light, and give occasion for the belief^ that they 
themselves secretly reject and despise it. Thus, instead 
of promoting, they will obstruct the faith and happy 
influence of religion among their fellow-men. But a 
uniform, well tempered zeal in their profession at once 
evinces to beholders their own sincere and enlightened 
attachment to it ; displays to their view^ the reality, the 
beauty, and moral efficacy of its doctrines and precepts ; 
while it directly prompts the most assiduous endeavours 
to make them truly good and happy ; and thus in vari- 
ous methods advances the interest and honour of the 
gospel and its divine Author. . y 

Fifthly. The examples of the best of men in every 
age, of all the holy prophets, apostles, and martyrs, of 



§«:r.I.I; on CHRISTIAN ZEAL, 1§ 

the blessed angels, yea of God, of Christ, and the Holy 
Spirit urge us to be zealous. They call upon us to 
emulate their sacred ardour, and thus successfully co- 
operate with them in the most glorious, and benevolent 
cause. To use the words of a very eminent British 
courtier, ** Ah, my friends, while wt laugh and tiifle, 
all things aie serious around us- God is serious ia 
calling and beaiing with us. Clirist is serious, who 
shed his blood for us. The Holy Ghost is serious, who 
striveth against die obstinacy of our hearts. The Holy 
Scriptures bring to our ears the most serious things in 
the world. The holy sacraments represent the most aw- 
ful and affecting matters. The whole creation is zealous 
in serving God and us. All nature is full of ardent en- 
ergy and exertion, is in constant labqiu* and travail for 
our happiness. All, that are in heaven or heU, are seri- 
ously engaged. How then can we sleep and trifle P" we, 
for whose sake this universal zeal is expended ! 

Finally. Our opportunities for zealous and useful ac- 
tivity are very short and uncertain ; yet these opportu- 
nities are our only seed-time for eternity. Since then 
die time of life and exertion is flying ; since death is has- 
tening ; since funeral knells are continually calling; shall 
we not eagerly improve our precious, but fleeting mo- 
ments in the great business, for which we ^^ere made 
and redeemed, and on which infinite consequences are 
suspended ? 

Our subject, in the review, may serve to explain and 
enforce the important use of the passions in religion. 
For it has been shown, that Christian zeal, \\ hich is the 
soul both of piety and viitue, is notliing else, than the 
due and ardent exercise of the affections upon their high- 
est objects. Consequently, to exclude the aftections 
from our spiritual affairs upon the idea, that religion is a 
reasonable service, is equally absurd, unscriptural, and 



14 ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. [Se«. fc 

pernicious. Perhaps the Christians of former ages had 
too much stress upon a severe and superstitious strict- 
ness in the duties of moraUty ; upon mechanical and 
enthusiastic fervours and raptures in reUgion ; and many 
substituted these in the room of substantial virtue and 
godliness. But from this extravagant or perverted use 
of religious zeal in preceding ages it would be wrong 
to infer, as sonie of the present generation seem disposed 
to do, that the passions ought to be wholly shut out 
from the Christian life, and that piety and virtue, in or- 
der to be rational, must consist merely in the cold ap- 
probation and the decent external performance of duty. 
Certainly the passions, considered as an original part of 
pur constitution, are not in their own nature either un- 
reasonable or useless ; but greatly the reverse. Nor can 
it be justly said, that the objects of religion do not de- 
serve the homage, or its duties and difficulties require 
the aid of our affections ; for the reverse of both is loudly 
proclaimed by reason and Scripture, as we have seen in 
this discourse. Nor can it be truly asserted, that the 
passions are too mean and gross a part of our frame to 
be a suitable and acceptable oblation on the altar of rCr 
ligion ; for that pious fervour, which we now advocate, 
ig something unspeakably more noble, than those un- 
meaning and tumultuous animal emotions, which visi-? 
ble objects frequently excite, or which religious consid- 
erations sometimes produce in persons of warm consti- 
tutions. It is nothing else, than the strong exercise of 
mental or spiritual affections, such as love, gratitude,, 
hope, confidence, and joy towards the invisible, the in- 
finite Parent and Redeemer of the world ; affections, 
which, far from terminating in short-lived mechanical 
transports, manifest their rational origin and quality, 
their sincerity and strength by their permanent and 
universal influence upon the temper and conduct. 



>S«i.I.l ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. 15 

Surely this employment of our affections is the most 
worthy and acceptable homage we can possibly render 
to the Deity ; and nothing short of this deserves the 
name of rational piety, or even of sound morality : for 
the cool perception, or even the lifeless performance of 
what is right falls essentially short of true virtue ; be^ 
cause it does not include the supreme affection of the 
heart, which, in the view both of reason and Scripture, 
is the great source of moral goodness. In a word, it is 
the main office and glory of the Christian dispensation, 
not to set aside or extinguish our affections, like the 
unnatural and barbarous system of the stoics, but to rec- 
tify their disorders, and thus to bring them back to 
their original end, namely, the service of God, and the 
moral perfection and happiness of man. Agreeably, the 
descriptions, the precepts, and examples of piety, held 
up in the Bible, constantly inculcate such a fervent, yet 
judicious exercise of religious affections, as we have 
been recommending ; while the doctrines of revelation 
are admirably fitted to excite and promote it. 

Let us throw open our minds to the influence of the 
apostolical precept ; and especially let it be our first con- 
cern, that our hearts may steadily feel, and our conduct 
express those various affections, which the great and mer- 
ciful discoveries of the gospel demand. Let those, who 
have hitherto treated these matters with careless indiffer- 
ence, consider the shocking impropriety of such a be- 
haviour. Let them awake from their fatal slumbers, and 
earnestly seek the grace and salvation, which Christian* 
ity offers. Let Christian professors realize, how unbe- 
coming a lukewarm temper is in so sacred a profession. 
Let them abhor the thought of a timid or treacherous 
tieutrality at a time, when the name and interest of their 
blessed Master are openly blasphemed and powerfully 



16 ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL.. CSer.I, 

opposed. Let them resolve, at such a crisis, to be ei- 
ther constant, ejiemplary Chiistjans, or avowed in^ 
iidels. 

Let thos% of us, who either are, or propose at some 
iiiture period to be, public Christian instructers, deep- 
ly imbibe and assiduously cultivate the Cliristian spir* 
it. Such persons are eminently bound to be zealous 
friends to religion themselves. To use the words of a 
masterly writer on this subject,^ *' It is of the utmost 
consequence, that a speaker in the pulpit firmly believe 
both the truth and importance of those principles, which 
he inculcates on others ; not only, that he believes them 
speculatively, but have a lively and serious feeling of 
them. This will give an earnestness and strength, a 
fervour of piety to his exhortations, superior in its effects 
to all the arts of studied eloquence ; and, without it, the 
assistance of art will seldom be able to conceal the mere 
declaimer. This will make his discourses solid, co- 
gent, and useful ; it will prevent those ostentatious ha- 
rangues, which have no other aim, than to amaze an 
audience, or raise their admiration of the speaker," I 
cannot forbear adding, that, as open, dissipation or profli- 
gacy in a young member at the university, who after- 
wards becomes a preacher, must give a lasting wound 
to his reputation, comfort, and usefulness in that profes- 
sion, as was largely shown to us, the last Lord's day ; so 
a theological student, who, with the sacred desk in his 
eye, has so little virtuous zeal, as to be afraid or asham- 
ed to bear the least testmiony against irregularity, vice, 
or even irreligion in his fellow students, affords a poor' 
presage of that independent integrity, courage, and ar- 
dour in reproving sin, and promoting the cause of holi- 
ness, which are leading traits in the faithful and useful 
minister of the gospel. 

* Dr. Blair. 



Sun. 1.] ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. 17 

Finally. To awaken and keep alive in all our bosoms 
the holy zeal now inculcated, let us maintain a constant 
and familiar intercourse with the great objects and in- 
citements of it. Let serious meditation and devotion 
accompany a regular and affectionate attendance on 
all the institutions of our holy religion. 

I shall close with briefly pressing the duties before 
us on all classes of my hearers. Let holy zeal and en- 
erg}'- animate all the various pursuits, to which you are 
called. Let the duties, even of your secular callings, be 
performed with serious diligence. Remember, that the 
highest as well, as lo^iest grades in human society are 
bound to fill up their time and rank in the community 
with some kind of useful and zealous industry ; and 
those, who think themselves above this obligation, would 
do well to consider that dreadful sentence, *' Cast ye the 
slothful, unprofitable servant into outer darkness, where 
is weeping and gnashing of teeth." Let parents and 
governors of families, while they reflect on their solemn 
and arduous trust, be incited to discharge it in the most 
earnest, yet prudent and tender manner. Let the words 
of God, the instructions of religion and virtue be con- 
tinually in our hearts and mouths ; and let us teach them 
diligently to our children, talking of them when we sit 
in our houses, when \ve walk by the way, when we lie 
do\\Ti, and when we arise up. Let neighbours and 
friends endeavour with prudent zeal to enlighten, re- 
claim, establish, or comfort their ignorant or ungodly, 
their erroneous, wavering, or disconsolate brethren. 
Let those, who are distinguished by their talents and 
wealth, their power and influence, be as rich and zeal- 
ous in good works, as they are eminent in useful ability. 
Let unrenewed, impenitent sinners awake from their fa- 
tal slumbers, and earnestly seek divine mercy and salva- 
tion. Let me address each of them, as the mariners 



18 ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL, . [Ser. I. 

did Jonah. ** What meanest thou, O sleeper ? Arise, 
call upon thy God; if so be that God will think upon 
thee, that thou perish not." If endless bliss or wo be 
of any importance to thee, rouse from thy careless indo- 
lence ; consider and bewail thy sin and misery ; look 
out for the needful and appointed remedy ; cry mightily 
to the divine Saviour for his reconciling, restoring grace ;. 
never rest, till thy soul has sensibly received the trans* 
cript of God's law, the impression of Christ's gospel, 
and thus the image and friendship of thy Creator and 
Redeemer* 

Let Christian professors realize, that nothing can be 
more unbecoming, disgraceful, or pernicious, than a 
lukewarm temper in so sacred a profession. Let them 
therefore resolve to be either cold or hot ; zealous 
Christians, or consistent avowed infidels. 

Let declining, or doubting saints penitently return to 
their former zeal, and to their first works. Let them dil* 
igently search the Scriptures and their own hearts ; and 
in every suitable and prescribed method wait earnestly, 
yet patiently and submissively on God for renewed ani- 
mation and comfort in the religious life. 

Finally. Let Christians in general carry a spirit of holy 
zeal into all the duties, which they owe to themselves, 
to their fellow men, and to their God. To this end let 
each one bring home to his heart such questions as 
these. Can I do no more, than this, for that Being, 
who gave and deserves my all, and who has shown me 
infinite favour ? Can I do no more, for my Saviour, 
who died and endured so much, so patiently and gen- 
erously for me ? Can I do no more, when my own eter- 
nal salvation is the prize ? Can I do no more for my 
neighbours, friends, children ; for the church of my 
blessed Master ? Can I do no more, who have loitered 
so long, who am now perhaps doing my last ; who have 



Ser.i. on christian zeal: 19 

so many encouragements and helps ; so many mercies 
to draw, and afflictions to rouse me ; who chose such a 
Master, such a work, and such a reward ? Let us 
plead these questions .\^'ith our own hearts and with our 
Maker ; till we duly feel their quickening power ; till we 
become as a flame of fire in the service of God and our 
generation. 



©ermon il 



On brotherly Reproof* 



LEviticus XIX, 17* 

Thou shaft not hate thy brother in thine heart i thm 
shah in any wise rebuke thy neighbour,^ and not suffer^ 
sin upon him. 



I 



T is a subject of just and general complaint^ that 
honest and faithful friendship in our mutual communi- 
cations and dealings is become very unfashionable ; 
and a style of flattery and dissimulation has crept into 
our ordinary social intercourse %. insomuch that the good 
old practice of generously pointing out, and endeavour, 
ing to rectify, the errors and faults of our neighbour, i$ 
in a great measure lost, even among Ck-istian profes- 
sors. 

As this instance of modern degeneracy is both sinful 
and pernicious, it is the duty of religious instructers to 
bear an open testimony against it, and to enforce this 
testimony by their private and public example. 

The words just recited are excellently adapted to 
such a design, as they earnestly inculcate the duty of re- 
proving our offending brethren. " Thou shalt not hate 
thy brother in thine heart ; thou shalt in any wise re- 
buke thy neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him,'* 

Several things in this precept deserve our particu- 
lar notice. 

First, We are commanded rather to reprove our 
neighbour openly, than to cherish secret hatred against 



See. n.l ON BROTHERLY REPROOP? 21 

him for any injury or offence, which he has offered to us. 
We are forbidden to *' hate him in our hearts," that is, to 
conceive secret disaffection to him, and conceal resentful, 
vindictive passions under the veil of silence, or apparent 
friendship, till we have a full opportunity of retaliating. 
But we must rather giv^ vent to our honest displeasure 
at the offence, by dealing openly and faithfully with the 
offender^ In this xvay we must endeavour to convince 
him of his fault, and thus extinguish our own resent- 
ment. We must rebuke him to his face, for any ila- 
grant evil, in opposition both to divulging liis transgres- 
sion to others, like mean and cruel talebearers (which is 
strictly prohibited in the preceding verse ; ) and to base- 
ly flattering, encouraging, or justifying hini ir> his sin. 

Secondly. We are thus to reuke him, in a spirit of love. 
For the duty of reproof being here opposed to iawai'd ha- 
tred of jour brother, implies of course the contrary af- 
fection of love, prompting our efforts to convince and re- 
form him, and thus secure his forgiveness, virtue, and 
final happiness. Friendly rebuke then is an essential of. 
fice of mutual charity, which ought both to be perform- 
ed and received in love. " Let the righteous smite me," 
said an eminent saint, *' and- it shall be a kindness." 
How faithful and salutary are these wounds of a friend ! 

Thirdly. Observe the great strictness of the com^ 
mand ; *' Thou shalt in any wise rebuke him ;" that is, 
thou shalt, by no means, on no pretence, omit this friend- 
ly office ; which denotes, that however ready men are 
to frame reasons for neglecting it, none of those excuses 
will by any means annul the binding force of this duty, 
or exculpate the omission. For observe, 

Fourthly, The great guilt and mischief incurred by 
such neglects It is here construed into hatred of our broth- 
er, aiid suffering sin upon liim i tliat is, suffering him to 



a2 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF, [Ser. IL 

be under the guilt of a sin, from which our kind and 
seasonable reproof might instrumentally save him. 
Or the words might be rendered, " and," or "so thou 
shalt not bear sin for him," or on his account; that is, 
thou shalt not involve thyself in his guilt, as thou certain- 
ly wilt do, if thou dost not take this method to reform 
him. If we reprove not the unfruitful works of dark^ 
ness, we have fellowship with them, and become par* 
takers in their guilt. 

The text, thus explained, compared with similar 
passages of scripture, and with those great principles of 
nature and Christianity, which require us to love our fel- 
low men, as ourselves, and prompte their best interests 
by eveiy suitable method in our power, sufficiently 
evinces, that mutual reproof of failings and sins in each 
other is an important social duty. We are all as much 
bound to perform this office to an offending brother, as 
we are to awake our neighbour from sleep, when his 
house is in flames, or to admonish him of his danger and 
urge him to repel it, when we see him attacked by a ma- 
lignant disease. That modish civility or prudence, 
which pretends not to see, or seeing will not reprove, 
the faults of others, argues not a truly kind and tender, 
but a. selfish, unfeeling, and unchristian spirit; a spirit, 
which makes private interest and ease the centre of all 
its actions. If all mankind, from the beginning, had 
been uniformly governed by this self-seeking spirit, so- 
ciety could not have subsisted. In other words, if no 
man had felt himself interested in the welfare of others 
as well, as his own, men either could not have united 
in social intercourse, or being embodied, must soon 
have been scattered and dissolved. Hence a cold in- 
sensibility and disregard to the moral conduct and wel- 
fare of our neighbour is a high offence against society 



Ser. II.] ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. 2$' 

as well, as Christianity, and of course against that Be- 
ing, who is the supreme Fouiider and Guardian of 
both ; it strikes, not only at the well being of individ- 
uals, but at the existence both of the church and conir 
monwealth. 

But though all men are thus bound to seek the ref- 
ormation of transgressors by faithfully reproving them ; 
yet this duty eminently belongs to some particular clasr 
ses of mankind ; I mean those, who are peculiarly en- 
trusted with the superintendence of others. All au- 
thority over others makes the governor, in some sense, 
accountable for the behaviour of the governed ; conser 
quently the former is as truly obliged to notice and 
guard the actions of the latter, as to watch over his own. 

Those magistrates, parents, and instructers of youth, 
who neither regard nor reprove the vices of those under 
their care, betray a most sacred and important trust. 
Those civil officers ai^e eminently guilty in this respect, 
whose peculiar function and solemn oath bind them to 
jbvestigate and animadvert upon certain offences ; who 
yet, in defiance of those sacred engagements, wilfully 
shut their eyes, their ears, and their mouths, against 
the most flagrant transgi^essions, instead of faithfully 
arming against them the sword both of private reproof and 
public justice. Those parents, too, will be called to a 
terrible account at last for the blood of their cliildren, 
who have suffered them to perish before their eyes, on- 
ly for want of telling them their sin and their danger. 

Those Christian teachers likewise inciu- dreadful 
guilt, who refuse to see, or neglect to reprove, irrelig- 
ious and demoralizing principles, or prevailing practical 
impiety and vice, especially when these evils are spread^ 
ing over the Christian world. On the other hand, that 
minister deserves a double tribute of G;ratitude and 



24 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. (Ser. II, 

honour, especially from his own people, who is ready- 
to risk, and even to sacrifice, his own temporal ease, 
profit, reputation, yea, his worldly all, rather than withr 
hold from them such information, admonition, and re- 
proof, as he believes ;n his conscience to be essential to 
their best interests. 

Such a truly independent, magnanimous, yet benev- 
t^ent spirit ought to characterize every professed disci-r 
pie, especially every minister, of that self- denying Re- 
deemer, who cheerfully sacrificed his own comfort, 
honour, and even life to the great business of reprov- 
ing, healing, and saving a distempered, perverse, and 
unthankful world. This courageous and active zeal, 
however, by no means precludes, but rather implies, as- 
we shall presently see, that Christian meekness and dis- 
cretion, which are necessary to the acceptance and suc:r 
cess of our faithful admjonitions. 

Another description of persons, to whom this duty of 
reproof peculiai'ly belongs, is the class of professed 
and intimate friends. Every man may justly challenge 
this office from his bosom associate, as an indispensable 
debt of friendship. For, to use the language oi an elo- 
quent wiiter, ■ ^ To what purpose does a man take 
another person into his heart, so as to make him his 
second self, his second conscience, if the latter will not 
be impaitial in observing, reproving, and amending his 
faults as well, as in applauding and improving his vir- 
tues ? Can that man truly love me, can he feel toward 
me like a generous, confidential friend, who leaves me 
unwarned, unguarded, unassisted, when he sees de- 
fects and improprieties in me, which I overlook in my^ 
self, and which, if uncorrected, ^vill injure my comfort 
and improvement, my renuta^ion and usefulness ? No. 
It is the nature of love to cover a multitude of sins; 



Ser. II.l ON BROTHERLY REPROOF* 2J 

and one instance of this is to cover them from the eyes 
of others, by faithfully discovering them to the offender 
himself, and thereby engaging him to watch over and 
suppress them." 

Let me then earnestly recommend this expression of 
true friendship to all, who are united by its endearing 
and sacred bonds ; to those, who are intimately con- 
nected by nature, by agreeable neighbourhood, by fa- 
miliar association, especially by those domestic ties, 
which render two persons in an eminent sense one. 
What singular advantages and proportionate obliga- 
tions are these under, particularly the last, to correct 
each other's fiili'^.gs in the most insinuating and effica- 
cioiis manner, and thus to guard and improve each other 
in virtue, in mutual Christian affection, and happiness ! 

But here an important question arises, How ought 
this delicate task of administering reproof to be per- 
formed, so as most effectually to reach tlie end? I 
answer, 

Fu'st. Let the reproof, if possible, be given in se- 
cret ; for the design of it is, not to disgrace, but reform 
the offender. But the publication of his miscarriage 
tends only to exasperate and harden him in transgres- 
sion. Yet such is the malignity, the imprudence, or 
the love of telling and heai'ing some new thing, which 
generally prevails, that a person who has committed a 
fault, instead of being admonished and recalled to vir^ 
tue by the private and tender voice of friendship, too 
commonly finds himself, in the first instance, the victim 
of public reproach. But is this consistent with the law 
of Christian prudence and love, or even of common hu- 
manity ? Has not our benevolent Master prescribed a 
ver}^ different line of conduct ? H-^.s he not expressly 
dii-ected us, " If thy brother has offended thee, go and 



16 OQ^ BROTHERLY REPROOF. [Ser. It 

tell him his fault between thee and him alone?" If this 
step succeed, the brother is gained, and his offence is 
to be forever buried. If this secret application fail^ 
then ''take with thee two or three witnesses." 

Plow amiable is this process J It savours equally of 
tenderness to our brother's reputation and comfort in 
this world, and to his eternal salvation in the next* 
Accordinglj^, even the popish religion, which enjoins 
confession of sins to the priest, inflicts the severest pen- 
alty on him, if he divulge any things revealed to him in 
such confession. When will the protestant world kam 
from despised papists to practise equal prudence and 
charity I 

Secondly. Let the st}'le and manner of our reproofs 
be suited to the rank and condition of the reproved. If 
an inferior be called to reprove a superior, let him man- 
ifest the same deference and submission on this occa- 
sion, as in the most direct and solemn expressions of 
respect. Even truth, unseasonably or disrespectfully 
delivered, especially in cases of rebuke, usually irri- 
tates, instead of curing, men's vicious passions. It 
leads them to hate truth and virtue, on account of the 
forbidding garb, in which they appear. In this case 
the reprover is really a partaker in the sin of the of- 
fender ; because he directly cdniirms him in it. With 
what modesty and delicacy did Daniel reprove king 
Belshazzar, a most insolent, debauched, and sacri- 
legious prince, who had just profaned the sacred ves- 
sels of God's sanctuary at a licentious feast j yet instead 
of reproaching him in rough and bitter language, he 
calmly recounts to him the signal mercies and judg- 
ments of Heaven upon his father Nebuchadnezzar, and 
then gently adds, " And thou, his son, hast not hum- 
bled thine heart, though thou knewest all this." Such 



Ser. II.] ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. 27 

a discreet and respectful manner recommended both his 
person and his admonition. Let all reprovers, both 
public and private, imitate this lovely example. Let 
them seek, by a prudent and respectful mode of ad- 
dress, to insinuate needful reproof into the affections 
of men, and thus to give it desirable success ; which 
brings me to add, 

Thirdly, Rebuke must be dispensed in a meek and 
compassionate manner. Nothing can be more unbe- 
coming and cruel, than haughty, sai'castic, or insulting 
treatment of a guilty brother, which seems to triumph 
in his pain and confusion. The spirit of Christian 
charity forbids all scurrilous reflections on the person 
reproved, and every needless aggravation of his offence. 
It requires us to probe his wound with the hand of ten- 
der pity, as those who participate in the distress, which 
duty and love compel us to inflict, and who wish to ex- 
cite no more anguish, than 'the real necessity and bene- 
fit of the patient demand. We have an excellent mod- 
el of this compassionate manner of reproving in the 
prophet Nathan, when sent to admonish David of his 
shocking guilt in the affair of Uriah. Instead of di- 
rectly painting, in strong and aggravated colours, the 
crimes of adultery and murder, he imperceptibly steals 
into David's conscience and heart, by the nicest arts of 
gentle address. By reciting a most apposite and mov- 
ing parable he leads the guilty monarch insensibly to 
pronounce his own condemnation. Having thus 
brought him to confess his sin, he adds not one severe 
word to heighten his aflliction, but hastens to comfort 
him with an assurance of divine forgiveness, seconded, 
however, by a kind but faithful warning ; " The Lord 
has put away thy sin, thou shalt not die, — Howbeit, as 
by this deed thou hast given great occasion to the ene- 
mies of the Lord to blaspheme," thy infant son, the 






58 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. [Ser.IL 

offspring of thy criaie,, '' shall surely die." How ten- 
der y. yet how elfectaal, was this muuier of dealing ! 

This compassionate style of reproof is ever connect- 
ed with a humbling sense of our own guilt and remain- 
ing depravity, and a tliankful acknowledgment of that 
divine grace, which has preserved us from the same or 
even greater vices, than those, which we reprove in oth- 
ers. This humility and pious gratitude will prevent us» 
from looking down upon offendei*s, as the proud Phari- 
see did on the poor Publican, with a boasting, vain 
glorious air ; and will lead us to adore the distinguish- 
ing mercy of God in keepings or delivering us from 
those temptations, by which others have fallen. 

Fourthly. Reproof must not be continued or re- 
peated, after the occasion is removed by tlip reformat 
tion of tl:^ offender. When our guilty brother repents, 
he ought to be forgiven ; and, if we forgive a crime, 
we ought to forget it ; tlmtis, to feel and behave, as if 
we had forgotten it, in a friendly and respectful man* 
oer, as we treat those, who have never offended us. 

If those, who call themselves Christians, would dil- 
igently discharge the duty before us, m the manner 
jaow recommended, they^ would evidence and promote 
their brotherly love ta the best advantage. ThTeir ad- 
monitions, for the most part, would be kindly receiv- 
ed, and would frequently ^ by the divine blessing, pro- 
duce the desired effect. Such faithful reprovers would> 
at least, preserve their own souls from sharing the guilt 
and ruin of their offending brethren ;; and would pos- 
sess unspeakable comfort and benefit in the present ap- 
probation and improvement of their own minds^ and ill 
the final applause and recompense of their Judge. 

Let these considerations prevail on you, my breth- 
ren, to comply in good earnest -with the precept of 
the text. Remember that it forbids you, on any pre- 



tence, or for any reason whatever, to omit this humane 
and benevolent office. Be entreated then to banish 
the excuses, and to remove the causes, which obstruct 
or mar your performance of this duty. 

Some of you are perhaps detened from reproving 
others, by a consciousness that you are equally guilty 
yourselves. You cannot with any spirit or confidence 
press those duties upon your neighbours, or even your 
own children, which you yourselves secretly or openly 
neglect. You cannot rebuke them for sin, when you 
commit the same, or equal transgixssions. You have 
not 'Courage, by attempting to reform them, to expose 
yourseh«es to that cutting retort, ** Physician, heal thy- 
self." Those parents, rulers, or masters, those Chris- 
tian professors and teachers, may well be afraid anci 
ashamed to reprove and exhort others, who are not re- 
ligiously careful of their own temper and conduct ; for 
the admonitions of such can have little authority, ac^ 
ceptance, or utility. All of us, therefore, especially 
those, who are appointed to watch over others, have a 
double motive to attend to ourselves, since without this 
attention we can neither save ourselves, nor usefully 
perform our duty to mankind, but directly contribute 
to the destruction of both. Let our charity, then, be- 
gin at home, in the thorough conversion and genuine 
integrity of our own hearts and lives. Then, our expe- 
rience and example w^ill give energy to our endeavours 
for the reformation of others. 

Again, some of you are probably hindered from the 
performance of this duty by a desire of pleasing, and ^ 
fear of offending men. But though the favour of those 
around us be a desirable good, both in itself and its ef^ 
fects, and the contrary be an equal evil ; yet it is cer. 
tainly our duty and interest to please God, rather than 
men. To please men for their good to edification is 



30 ON BROTHERLY HEPROOF. CSer-II. 

true Christian benevolence ; but to please them to their 
destruction is base and savage cruelty, 

Another hindrance to this duty is an excessive con^ 
stitutional tenderness, which will not suflPer us to give 
pain to a fellow creature, even on the most urgent oc- 
casions. Thus the tender feelings of some parents 
will not permit them to curb the extravagant humours 
and passions of their children, or to administer the 
most needful correction, or even reproof. The same 
principle withholds many neighbours and friends from 
bearing proper testimony against the follies and vicesj 
of each other. But a tenderness, which thus restrains 
persons from a necessary duty, instead of being an 
amiable and useful virtue, degenei-ates into ^ coward-. 
ly and pernicious vice. 

Another great hindrance to this duty is shame, or a 
dread of reproach and ridicule. But if the servants of 
Satan are not ashamed of their master, shall the disci- 
ples of Christ blush to stand up for theirs? If the 
former are not ashamed to swear, to riot, to trample up- 
on the Sabbath and worship of God ; shall the latter be 
ashamed to reprove such daring abominations ? If in- 
fidels and libertines proclaim their wicked and destriiic- 
tive principles and practices with an unblushing, and 
even exulting countenance ; shall not serious Chris^ 
tian believers be at least equally bold in testifying 
against these evils, and endeavouring to reform them ? 
Does it not become them to manifest a noble superi- 
ority to the jeers and mockings, which a faithful dis- 
charge of their duty may draw upon them from igno- 
rant or abandoned men ? In short, let us all remember, 
that there is no dishonour in being censured or ridi- 
culed, but in deserving to be so ; that it is a real glory 
to be reproached for our distinguished Christian cou- 
rage and zeal ; but tliat, '^ if we are ashamed of Christ 



Ser.il] on brotherly reproof. 31 

and his words before an adulterous generation, he will 
be ashamed of us before his Father, and before his 
angels." 

Another impediment to this duty is an indolent dis- 
position, or such a love of personal ease and quiet, as 
cannot relish or endure laborious and persevering ef- 
forts for the reformation and salvation of others ; es- 
pecially as those efforts 'often provoke the most un- 
thankful and malevolent returns. But to excuse our- 
selves from this generous, though self-denying office, 
on this ground, betrays a vile preference of present self- 
jmdulgence to the will and honour of God, and the high- 
est good of our fellow-creatures. 

Near akin to this is that exclusive devotion to our 
own interest, which shuts out all feeling or care for the 
welfare of others, and prompts us to ask with wicked 
and murderous Cain, '' Am I my brother's keeper ?" 
Let my neighbour take cai'e of himself. But it is suf^ 
ficient to reply, We are all charged by God, by nature, 
and Christianity, with the care of our brother as well, 
as of ourselves ; and consequently we cannot neglect 
his welfare, without endangering and finally destroying 
our own. 

Pride is also a frequent source of this neglect. I 
mean that pride, which disdains the humble office of 
familiarly instructing, exhorting, and reproving the 
poor, ignorant, and baser classes of mankind. But 
such haughty, pretended Christians forget how low 
their Master stooped for them ; how he descended from 
the bosom and throne of God to mingle and converse 
with the dregs of mankmd, with a view to reform and 
save them. 

Ignorance is another cause of this neglect. Some 
are ignorant, that the business of mutual reproof is a 
common Christian duty, or at least is their duty ; es- 



5^ ^ ¥ftOtHERL¥ rIWo&F. tSEH. it 

pecially as they are conscious of such weakness of 
judgment and knowledge, or such want of eloquence, 
as in their view unfits thern for this office. But every 
man, however weak and unlearned, has some influence 
over otliers, especially over his equals and inferiors. 
He may, at least, admonish and rebuke them by the 
eioqaence of his looks and example, which in many- 
cases would have a salutary and lasting effect. 

This duty is likewise often obstnicted by a spirit of 
discouragement and despondency, which tempts even 
good people to give over admonishing stupid and ob- 
stinate sinners, and no longer to cast pearls before 
swine. But we ought to remember, that so long, as 
there is life, there is some ground of hope ; that so 
long, as sinners will hear, we have some encourage- 
ment to speak ; that no person, however hardened, is 
beyond the reach of divine power and mercy ; and that 
since God works by suitable means, it is our duty to 
continue our exhortations and reproofs, hoping and 
praying for a divine blessing to attend them. " In the 
morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not 
thy hand ;" for thou knowest not but this good seed may 
at length take root, and spring up into a plentiful harvest. 

Finally, some neglect this duty from a mistaken idea, 
that the office of reproving vice belongs exclusively to 
the Christian priesthood. But though public instruc- 
tion and adnionition belong to Christian preachers only, 
yet it equally belongs to Christians at large to co-operate 
with their ministers by mutual private exhortations. 
These would greatly encourage and strengthen your 
public instructers, and would give double advantage 
and effect both to their public and private addresses ; 
but the neglect of this duty among Christian profes- 
sors depresses and disables ministers from prosecuting 
tiieir work with desirable spiiit and success. In short, 



SxR. 11.3 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. 33 

the negligence, or the faithful zeal of a Christian peo- 
ple and their ministers is mutually contagious ; like the 
electiic fluid it is quickly communicated from one ta 
the other. 

Since, then, we find ourselves stripped of every plea 
for omitting the duty before us, what remains but that 
\ve auake to the immediate and resolute practice of it ? 
Have we not already, by our sinful neglect, been pai'-* 
takers of the guilt, and accessary to the ruin of others ; 
perhaps of our own beloved children or dearest friends ? 
And ai'e tliere not multitudes around us of open trans- 
gressors and scoffing infidels as well, as of cold or sleep- 
ing Christians, whose situation demands the fiiendly 
aid of our admonitions and prayers ? Can we have the 
faith of Christians, if we do not view such persons in a 
hazardous and very pitiable condition ? 

Can we possibly account for the careless sphit of 
many nominal believers at this day, both with respect 
to their own moral conduct and state, and those of oth- 
ers ; can we account for it on any other principle, than 
that of seci'et infidelity v/ith regai'd to the great truths 
of revelation ? If men fully believe any very interesting 
proposition or fact, it will influence their feelings and 
practice. This is universally seen in theu' temporal 
affairs. Accordingly w^eare told, that Noah was moved 
by his faith to prepare an ark for himself and his house, 
and to warn a sinful and sleeping world of their danger. 
Why did not the world hearken to, and comply with 
his admonitions ? Because they did not, like him, be- 
lieve the divine threatening. Agreeably, multitudes of 
professed Christians at this degenerate period have only 
a traditional, uncertain, or at best probable opinion, that 
the Bible may be true ; but have no steady and thorough 
conviction of the certainty and import of its interesting 
doctrines and precepts, threatenings and promises. l€ 



34 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. [Ser. IL 

they had, they would be all sensibility and exertion in 
securing and promoting their own best interests, and 
those of their families, neighbours, and fellow creatures 
at large. We have all, therefore, very great reason to 
adopt that prayer of the disciples, '* Lord, increase our 
faith.'^ 

While we labour and pray for a rriore strong and 
operative faith, let us with equal assiduity cherish a mu- 
tual Christian benevolence and sympathy. I mean that 
benevolence, which deeply feels, and strives to remove 
tlie moral as well, as physical evils, which have invaded 
our country or vicinity ; that benevolence, which princi- 
pally laments, and seeks to extirpate the fashionable in* 
fidelity, irreligion, and vices of the age, and which ex- 
erts its main efforts to produce a general revival of 
Christi^m piety and morals. While we glory in the lib- 
eral and benevolent character of the present times, let 
not this liberal and beneficent spirit be confined merely 
to men's bodies and political interests ; as though we 
were a set of beings, who were to expire with the 
beasts, and had never so much as heard of a future state- 
Let not our benevolent candour be perveited into a fond 
or silent indulgence of our children and neighbours in 
ever}^ pernicious error, folly, or vice. But let us re- 
member that our text, and indeed the whole spirit of 
our religion, stigmatize this species of candour, as a real 
and cruel hatred of our fellow creatures. 

Let us then shew our philanthropy by more Christian 
and more substantial tokens ; by doing all in our power 
to bring those around us, especially our own families and 
intimate friends to believe, love, and obey the gospel. 
In conformity to the express and frequent injunctions of 
Christianity, let us consider one another, to provoke un- 
to love and good works. Let us "exhort one another 
daily, while it is called to-day, lest any be hardened by 
the deceitfulness of sin," 



®ermon iii. 
On secret Faults and presumptuous Sins, 



Psalm xix. 12, 13. 

iVho can understand his errors ? Cleanse thou me from 
secret fatdts. 

Keep back thy ser'vant also from presu7nptuous sins. Let 
them not have dominion over me. Then shall I be up- 
right ; and 1 shall be innocent from the great transgres- 
sion. 

HESE words present to view a moral scale, or a 
gradual ascent of iniquity. The lowest degree of this 
series is error, or secret infirmity ; the next, presumptu^ 
ous sin ; the highest is called the great transgression. 

I propose to define these several grades of sin, espec- 
ially the two first ; and subjoin such remarks, as may 
seem pertinent and useful. 

The ground of the distinction here made between er- 
ror and presu?nption lies in the constitution of our na- 
tures. There are in the human mind three prime 
sources of action, the understanding, the will, and the af- 
fections. If there were no blindness in the first, no per- 
versity in the second, and no disturbance in the last, our 
actions would all be perfect. But alas ! in our present 
state, these several faculties are strongly infected Avith 
the appropriate disorders just named. Hence most of 
our wrong exercises have a tincture of each. But in 
philosophical strictness, every sin must be denominated 
from its principal source. If it chiefly result from a mis- 

L 



S6 ON SECRET FAULTS [SeR. Ill 

judging or uninformed understanding, it is a sin of ig- 
norance ; if it proceed from a sudden perturbation of 
the passions, it is a sin of infirmity ; if it flow from a 
cool and obstinate determination of the will, it is a pre- 
sumptuous offence. 7,. will illustrate each of these hykn 
eminent scripture example. 

Paul's conduct in persecuting the church of Christ 
proceeded directly fi'om a misguided judgment ; from a 
full, though erroneous, p^iisuasion, that Christianity was 
a pernicious heresy, fabricated to overturn tlie divine re- 
ligion of Moses. His passions were not violently in- 
flamed against the Christians by any personal provoca- 
tions. His will did not boldly defy "his understanding 
and conscience. We must tlierefore seek for the im- 
mediate cause of his wrong action in mental error ; and 
accordingly must style his persecution a sin of igno- 
rance. Under this name he himself condemns it : " I 
obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly." 

Our next illustration shall be taken from the fall of 
Peter. His denial of his Master did not arise from want 
of information. He had intimately known and amply 
confessed the divine character of Jesus. He knew and 
felt himself sacredly bound to own and adhere to Mm in 
tvcry extremity. He had solemnly pledged himself to 
do it. The plea of ignorance therefore vanishes^ Yet, 
on the other hand, his fault was not strictly a presumptu- 
ous sin ; because it was not done with deliberate design 
or previous malice. He came to the fatal spot with a 
contrary intention. His heart loved and honoured his 
Master, even while his tongue abjured him ; and no 
sooner did the signal, foretold by his Lord, arrest his 
ear, than it roused the deepest penitential sorrow in his* 
bosom. These circumstances remove from his offence 
every suspicion of obstinate resolution, and oblige us to 
resort to his passions for the true spring of his miscon- 



Seu.III.] and presumptuous sins. 37 

duct. A sudden emotion of fear prevented the exercise 
both of his reason and virtue, and carried his whole soul 
to one point, naniely, how to avoid the present danger. 
His denial was therefore a sin of infirmity. 

But the conduct of David in the affair of Uriah widely 
differed from both the cases just cited. It was the wil- 
ful murder of an innocent, brave, and faithful subject ; 
a murder leisurely predetermined, artfully contrived and 
covered, and very basely accomplished ; and all this by 
a person of superior knowledge and sensibility with re- 
spect to right and wrong, to duty and sin. This action 
therefore has no plea either of mistake or surprise. It 
was a lijgh instance of presumptuous wickedness. 

These examples compared suggest die following ob- 
servations. 

I. That no ignorance or mistake respecting plain and 
essential things can wholly excuse an erroneous con- 
duct ; because such ignorance is in some degree volun- 
tary, or the fruit of human depravity. It arises, not 
from a total M^ant of the requisite means of information, 
but from faulty inattention and prejudice ; or from a 
heart, w^hich loves the darkness of error and vice rather, 
than the pure light of truth and virtue. A misguided 
judgment, produced by such causes, implies crime ; and* 
therefore cannot justify the actions, to which it kads. 
Agreeably, Paul, after his conversion, condemns that 
veiy conduct, which before he verily thought to be 
right. This self-condemnation w^as founded in a con- 
viction, that his former mistake arose, in a great measure, 
from unreasonable prejudice, from a voluntary neglect 
of those means of knowledge, which had been placed 
before him, The same remark still more emphatically 
applies to the Jewish rulers and people, who condemned 
and crucified our Saviour. At the time of committing 
these enormities, they appear to have viewed him as 



38 ON SJICRET FAULTS (Ser. IIL 

an impostor and blasphemer, who ought to be executed. 
Y^t no one doubts their heinous guilt in this proceed- 
ing. The reason is obvious. Their malignant deprav- 
ity blinded their understandings. It made them resist 
the abundant evidence, which Jesus had given, of his di- 
vine mission. 

These remarks place in their true light the first class 
of sins abovp described. They show^, that ignorance 
and mistake, unless they be invincible, or absolutely un- 
avoidable, will never exculpate a forbidden action. 
They consequently enforce the duty pf confessing, with 
the Psalmist, those numerous errors^ or secret faults, in- 
to which even good men are often betrayed by inconsid- 
eration, or remaining corruption. At the same time, 

II. Though ignorance may not justify, yet it fre- 
quently extenuates transgression. A person, who com- 
jnits an offence, without knowing or considering at the 
time its evil nature and tendency, is certainly in that in- 
stance a less daring and aggravated offender, than he, 
who performs the same act in defiancp of present knowl- 
edge and conviction. Agreeably, our Saviour tells us, 
that he, who disobeys his Lord's will, while he does not 
fully know it, shall be beaten with few stripes ; while he, 
who knows it, and yet does not prepare himself to do it, 
shall be beaten with many stirpes. He also made this 
plea for his very miirderers ; ** Father, forgive them; 
for they know not what they do." This plea how^ever 
will be of little service to those, who resolutely wrap up 
their minds in ignorance or delusion, on purpose, that 
t|)iey may sin with greater fi-eedom and boldness. Such 
wilful and studied delusion is itself a presumptuous sin^ 
This leads us to observ^e, 

III. That many tilings, wjiich oiir self-flattering minds 
are ready to pronounce infirmities, or undesigned er- 
rors^ belong to a higher species of guilt. If a man, un- 



^ER. III.] AND PKESUMPTUOUS SINS. 5*^ 

der sudden and violent provocation, conceives an an- 
gry thought or revengeful desire ; if he utters his hasty 
fcelings in unguarded expressions ; such thought, de- 
sire, and language, if soon checked, may be denominat- 
ed infirmities. But, if a man frequently indulges such 
passionate emotions and words, or some odier folly, 
which easily besets him, under an idea, that they are 
small inadvertences ; if he often rushes into those com- 
panies, or situations, which tend to excite and confirm 
these irregularities ; if, after committing them, he studi- 
ously lessens, excuses, or hides their deformity by 
ascribing them to sonie laudable motive, to some inno- 
cent weakness, or to the sudden influence of passion, of 
company, or of example; in each of these cases he 
makes himself g. presumptuous offender ; he cherishes 
a fault, which he ought to combat ; he shows a pen^erse 
fondness for transgression ; he commits and persists in 
it from a stupid insensibility to the evil of sin. A small 
error, wilfully retained and fostered, implies and pro- 
duces great guilt and depravity. 

This suggests another frequent mistake on this sub- 
ject. Some place in thje list of infirmities all those sins, 
which do not break out into overt acts, and even into 
gros^ and daring offences. But both Scripture and 
reason assure us, that the heart is the prime subject and 
fountain of n;oral good and evil ; and, of course, that 
the secret affections and exercises of this constitute the 
main part both of human virtue and vice. It follows, 
that a person may be a vile and presumptuous sinner, 
while his visible actions are decent and regular. Agree, 
ably, we are told in the sacred WTitings, that anian^may 
commit adultery, and even murder, in his heart. We 
are likewise told, that the carnal mind, or a heart, which 
is supremely set on carnal things, is enmity against 
God. In short, the Bible, and indeed the nature of the 



45 ON SECRET FAULTS tSER. IIL 

thing declai'eSj that evil thoughts and desires, when wil- 
fully cherished in the breast, are not only presumptu- 
ous sins, but the fruitful source of every other trans- 
gression. 

It is also a dangerous mistake to suppose, that every 
sin, committed by a true believer, or a person endued 
wdth a gracious principle, is a merig infirmity. This 
conclusion has been drawn by some from these words 
of St. John, *' He, that is born of God, cannot commit 
sin." ** That is," say these Expositors, '* he cannot, 
like other men, sin in a cordial and deliberate manner ; 
consequently his w^orst deviations are inconsiderable 
frailties." We grant, that sin is not his chosen and 
leading employment. Yet there are seasons, when the 
remains of corrupt disposition bear down the opposite 
principle, and generate inward feelings and overt actions, 
directly repugnant to his general character. Is it safe 
to assert, that these corrupt exercises are less aggravated 
in a child of God, than in a servant of sin ? On the con^. 
trary, does not the former sin against far greater privi- 
leges and motives, than the latter ? Is not the unworthy 
conduct of a son and a favourite far more ungrateful and 
monstrous, than the same deportment in a servant, or 
an avowed enemy ? Was not the guilt of David in the 
affair of Uriah unspeakably enhanced by his religious 
profession and attainments ? Let no one therefore 
imagine, that the guilt or the danger of his transgressions 
is small, because he is confident of a Cliristian standing; 
Rather let this very persuasion increase his vigilance. 
]Let it incite him to pray more earnestly, with pious Da- 
vid in the text, " Keep back thy servant from pre- 
sumptuous sins." 

IV. This leads us to specify some of the most re- 
markable kinds of presumptuous sin. I do this with a 
view to place this awful subject in the most convincing 



ser.iil] and presumptuous sins. 41 

and searching light ; and to point our best efforts against 
such a high species of guilt, in whatever shape it may of- 
fer itself. 

One fonn, in which this sin appears, is a violent op- 
position to the clear light and warnings of conscience. 
When the sinner's depraved inclinations, instead of be- 
ing subdued, aie roused to greater energy by the kind 
interference of this heavenly monitor ; when he bursts 
through the strong baiTiers, which a full conviction of 
truth and duty, of guilt and danger, oppose to his pro- 
gi*ess ; this is to transgress in a manner the most daring, 
ungrateful, and desperate. Those, who thus act, are 
said to resist and to quench the Spirit of God. Those 
likewise sin presumptuously, w ho boldly cast off the re- 
ligious principles, impressions, and resolutions of their 
early years ; who not only renounce, but openly deride 
those doctrines and duties, which they once regarded 
with reverence and delight. It requires no ordinary 
degree of presumption and outrage to stifle sentiments 
and feelings so natural and rational, so early and deeply 
impressed, and which have been found so comforting 
and salutary. Accordingly those, who make and suc- 
ceed in this effort, justly acquire the reputation of 
gigantic sinners. Those also merit the same character, 
who relapse into those very sins, for which they have 
been severely chastized, and which tiiey once bitterly 
lamented and solemnly abjured. It deserves remark, 
that neither Da\dd nor Peter ever renewed those foul 
crimes, of which they once repented. On the contrary, 
they ever regarded them with peculiar detestation and 
horror. The remembrance of tliem was a constant 
incentive to a humble, watchful, and exemplary life. 
^But those, who return to the vices, w^hich they once re- 
nounced with deep sorrow and shame, sin against nature 
as well, as graces for nature teaches even the inferioi' 



42 ON SECRET FAULTS [Ser. IIL 

animals to shun those things, which they have found to 
be hurtful. 

Near akin to this is the presumption of those, who 
harden themselves against the mercies or the judgments 
of the Most High ; who abuse their health and compe- 
tence, their wealth or power, as engines of luxury, 
oppression, of impiety ; who continue unreformed, af- 
ter, and perhaps under the scourges of personal, domes- 
tic, or nationd calamity f who resolutely oppose the 
united admonitions of God's word and providence. 

Finally, to the class of wilful and obstinate offenders 
we must refer all those, who refuse to believe and obey 
the gospel, while favoured with clear and abundant evi- 
dence of its truth and importance. 

This particular view of presumtuous sins suggests 
to us, 

V. The reasons, why tlie Psalmist was so earnest to 
be restrained from committing them. The reasons may 
be summed up in one idea, namely, the peculiar ma- 
lignity of such transgressions. They flow from cool 
and stubborn depravity. They blaspheme the essential 
attributes of God, by practically saying, either that he 
has not knowledge, power, and justice sufficient to pun- 
ish them, or that his mercy is so easy and so undis- 
tinguishing a quality, as to pardon the most imrelenting 
and daring wickedness, or, at least, to accept the cheap- 
est and latest repentance. They are likewise very 
pernicious in their effects. They destroy the light, the 
energ)^, and the delicate feelings of conscience. They 
bring a natural and judicial hardness upon the heart. 
They consign the soul to the absolute empire of sin. 
They bring it to the precipice of total apostasy and 
ruin. Hence David prays to be kept back from wilful 
sin, that so he might be innocent from the great trans- 



■%^sM^- 



&R. III.] AND PRESUMPTUOUS SINS. 43 

gression, that is, from final impenitence, which cannot 
be forgiven. 

In the review of this subject, what reason have the 
best of us to exclaim, in the language of David, Who 
can understand his errors ? Who can conceive, how of- 
ten and how greatly he has departed from the perfect 
standard of duty ? Who can reckon up the improper 
thoughts and feelings of his mind, the unguarded saUies 
of his tongue, and the faulty actions of his life ? Who 
can enumerate his neglected opportunities of doing or 
receiving good, of resisting or preventing evil ? Who 
can form an accurate and complete list of the vicious 
mistakes of his judgment, of the irregular motions of 
his passions, of the wTong inclinations and purposes of 
his will ? Who can fully state every circumstance of 
aggravation, which ]ias marked each guilty defect, 
omission, or act of his life ? Surely, my brethren, if we 
have any knowledge of ourselves, of the divine law, of 
the infinite purity and majesty of God, we shall readily 
adopt that humble address, " If thou, Lord^ shouldst 
mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?" 

Hence let us all unite in the prayer of the te^ct, that 
God would cleanse us from secret faults, and keep us 
back from deliberate transgression. Humble and fer- 
vent prayer against sin is a natural preservative from it ; 
as it tends to give us a solemn and habitual sense of the 
presence and holiness of God, of the evil and danger of 
ofFendmg him, and of the vile hypocrisy of practically 
contradicting our own petitions. As prayer is the ap- 
pointed medium of obtaining succour from Heaven ; so 
it solemnly binds and urges us to employ our own dili- 
gence in mortifying sin, in opposing temptation, and in 
practising universal holiness. Thus sincere petitions 
call forth corresponding exertion. Let us then unite 

M 



44 ON SECRET FAULTS. [Ser. ill. 

holy activity ^^ith humble dependence on God. If we 
would be kept back from sins of presumption and from 
the great transgression, let us maintain a constant rev- 
erence for the authority of conscience; let us daily and 
impartially inquire into the state of our hearts ; let us 
di^ead and promptly subdue the first risings of sinful 
thought and aifection ; let us plant our strongest guard 
against fevourite corruptions ; let us avoid the most dis- 
tant approaches, occasions, and appearances of evil ; 
let us stop our ears, like the deaf adder, against the en- 
chanting voice of temptation ; let us shun, as w^e would 
a mortal pestilence, the society and conversation of un- 
godly seducers; let us say with a holy firmness, *^ De- 
part from me, ye evil doers ; for I will keep the com- 
mandments of my Gob. Above all, let us see, that 
the fountain of moral exercises within us be purified 
by heavenly grace ; th-at our souls be clad with the 
spii-itual armour of truth and righteousness, of gospel 
faith and hope. Then shall we be able to stand in the 
evil day ; yea, we shall prove more than conquerors 
through him, that loved us. 



©ermon iv. 
On the Love of God. 



Majik xii. 30. 
Thou shah loi)C the Lord thy God %mth all thy hearty and 
ivith all thy soul, andxmth all thy mind, andnxi'ith all thy 
strength : this is the first and great commandment. 



A 



S all religion IS founded in the existence, pciiec- 
tions, and providence of one Supreme Being, the Crea-r 
tor and Governor of the world ; so this infinite Being 
must be the prime and terminating object of religion ; 
and a supreme regard to him must be the first duty, the 
crowning virtue of rational creatures. Agreeably, 
when our Saviour was asked by a Jewish lawyer, 
which is the first commandment of all, he replies in the 
words just read ; " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart ;.... this is the first and great com- 
mandment." 

In discoursing on this very nobje and interesting sub- 
ject, we will endeavour to illustrate the nature, the 
grounds, the measure, and the superior importance of 
love to God. 

With regard to the nature of the affection here en- 
joined, it must be understood to comprehend all those 
inward regards to the Deity, which his perfections, re- 
lations, and benefits demand. In other words, it in- 
cludes the \^'hole of piety, viewed in its internal princi- 
ples, or as seated in the mind ; just as love to our 
neighbour, required in the second great command, 



46 ON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Ser. IV. 

comprises the whole principle of social virtue. Ac- 
cordingly, the first ingredient in love to Gop is a just 
view and esteem of his character ; for so far as we en- 
tertain false and dishonourable ideas of the Supreme 
Being, our regards to him will be misplaced, degrad-? 
ing, and idolatrous ; they will really centre on a wrong 
object, an idol of our own imagination, It is therefore 
highly important, that our views of the divine character 
be founded in truth, that they be derived from the sar 
cred oracles, that they present the Deity to our minds 
in a glorious and amiable light, in the full-orbed lustre 
of his natural and moral perfections, Then, and only 
then, shall we perceive a beauty, a transcendent dignity 
in his nature, which will cornmand our rational, our su- 
perlative esteem. We m^y indeed possess a kind of 
selfish, enthusiastic love to God without this scriptural, 
impressive sight of his inherent excellence ; that is, we 
may love him with the mercenary affection of publicans 
and sinners, froni a flattering confidence of his special 
love and benefits to 14s, either enjoyed or expected ; or 
a pleasing idea, that he is just such a Being, as our^ 
selves. But this is only a reflection and refinement of 
self-love, and neither involves nor produces any genur 
ine esteem of the divine, character ; for proper esteen^ 
of a worthy object never grows out of mere self-rlove, 
but is ever founded on the apprehended worth of the 
party esteemed, Which leads us to observe, that true 
love to God unites the heart to his glory, and conse^ 
crates all its faculties to his service, The mind, in a just 
view and esteem of his infinite excellence, sees it to bs 
the noblest and happiest thing in the world to honour 
and please him 5 to contribute to the display of his glo^ 
rious perfections, and the advancement of his moral 
kingdom. Hence its active powers and pursuits are 
piainljr and habitually directe4 to this object ; insomuch 



SuR.IV.j ON THE LOVE OF GOD. 41 

that the pious lover of God eats and drinks, and does 
jcvery thing to his glory. Hence too, he places his own 
highest delight and felicity in contemplating, serving, 
and imitating his Maker, and enjoying the emanations 
^d assurances of his favour. We necessarily delight 
in those chaiacters, to whom our hearts are united by- 
sincere esteem and affection ; their society, their friend- 
ship, their approving smile, their growing prosperity, 
afford us the highest enjoyment- By contributing to 
their pleasiu-e or interest we essentially promote our 
own. This happily illustrates the inseparable connex- 
ion between serving God and enjoying him, in the un- 
ion of which the compilers of a celebrated religious com- 
pend have wisely placed the chief end of man ; for both 
these ideas meet in one indivisible point. 

By loving and glorifying God w'e immediately enjoy 
him, or find.our own happiness in these noblest exer- 
cises of our minds upon their higliest object, especially 
as connected with correspondent returns of love from 
this object. On the other hand, our felicity in the reg* 
ular and full enjoyment of our Maker eminently glorifies 
him, both as it displays the riches and triumph of his 
goodness }n harmony with his other perfections, and 
furnishes us with the greatest incentives and advantages 
to serve and praise him forever. 

This, by the way, forcibly represents the absurdity 
and self-contradiction of that sentiment, which states 
true love to God to imply a willingness to give up the 
enjoyment of him for the sake of his greater glory ! A 
sentiment as repugnant to the nature of the thing, as it 
is to the whole tenor of Scripture, and to the essential 
constitution of man, considered either as merely ration- 
al, or sanctified. 

Further, it is easy to see that gratitude to God for his 
favours is an important branch of the pious temper ; for 



48 ON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Ser. IV; 

if the essential perfections of Deity are a proper object of 
esteem and complacency, tlien the exercise of these per- 
fections in acts of beneficence to us demands the corres- 
pondent feehngs and acknowledgments of gratitude ; 
gratitude as constant and progressive, as is the current 
of divine benefits. 

True love of God likewise involves a reverential and 
filial fear of his power, justice, and paternal displeasure ; 
a steady and cheerful trust in his governing wisdom, be- 
hevolence, and faithfulness ; a quiet resignation to his 
disposing pleasure, even in the most trying scenes ; an 
habitual and divine joy in his perfect and universal ad- 
ministration ; a prevaiUng and eifectual desire to com- 
port with or be conformed to all his perfections ; to be 
obedient to his whole preceptive will, and to hold com- 
munion with him in his various ordinances and works. 

The w^ay is now prepared to consider, 

Secondly, The grounds or mothes of this divine af- 
fection. These are, first, the essential perfections of 
God ; and secondly, his relations and communica- 
tions to us. 

1. We are to love him primarily for his own loveli- 
ness ; or as the text intimates, we are first to love him, 
as the Lord, the infinitely glorious Jehovah ; and then, 
as our God, related to us by many endearing ties. 

In proof of this, I would observe, if the character of 
God is really amiable in itself, it is fit that we should 
regard it accordingly ; for it is certainly right to love 
what is right. We all find ourselves bound, and even 
constrained to love a worthy human character, at the 
first sight or hearing of it, previously to any thought of 
self-interest, or to the idea of deriving any benefit from 
it ; yea, in opposition to private and selfish afiection. 
Thus the excellent character of a Washington has 
commanded the esteem of distant nations, yea, of selfish 



■'ahjfe 



Ser. IV.] ON THE LOVE OF GOD. 49 

Britons, who, though obliged to view him in the late 
revolution as theu' most formidable enemy, yet felt 
themseh es equally obliged to admire and extol those 
great and good qualities, which ennobled the man. How 
much greater then must be the obligation, which binds 
us all to revere and love the infinitely perfect Original, 
on account of his transcendent greatness and goodness ! 
It is God's infinite perfection, which makes him to be 
a God, which constitutes all his glory and beauty. If 
therefore we overlook this, we overlook God himself; 
we set aside every thing in him, which is a ground of 
esteem or affection ; consequently all our love, if we 
have any, must centre and tenninate in self. In a 
word, it is self-evident, that no man can truly esteem 
and love the excellent character of Deity, unless he 
loves it on account of its excellence. This love to 
God for his own most amiable perfections, and espe- 
cially for his holiness, w^hich may be called the sum and 
crown of his perfections, is the most noble, prominent, 
and discriminating feature of true religion. But still it 
is not the only feature ; the religion of fallen, imperfect 
man is not wholly made up of disinterested love either 
to GcD, or the created. system. For, 

In the 2d place, we are to love him not only as the 
Lord, but as our God. This points out the seconda- 
i}^ ground to this duty. We aie to love him as our 
Creator, who gave us our existence and faculties, and to 
whom therefore they ought to be affectionately devoted > 
as our Preserver and Benefactor, who, by upholding, 
actuating and comforting us every moment, acquires a 
new title, w'ith each successive instant, to our best af- 
fections and service ; as our Lawgiver and Judge, w^ho 
has an undoubted right to give law to his own creatures^ 
who has accordingly summed up his requirements isi 
the great law of love, and who can and will rewaid q€ 



* 



50 ON THE LOVE OF GOtT. [Ser. IV. 

punish their obedience or transgression ; finally, as our 
merciful Father and Redeemer, who, by giving his own 
Son to die for our redemption, has bought us to him- 
self at an infinite price, and thereby laid us under the 
most forcible and endearing obligations to glorify God 
with our bodies and spirits, which are his. The love 
and benefits of God in our creation and preservation, 
especially in our redemption and everlasting salvation, 
are constantly held up in Scripture as arguments to en- 
gage our love and obedience ; and all the saints on sa- 
cred record are represented, as feeling the animating, 
constraining influence of these motives. A thankful 
sense therefore of the temporal, spiritual, and everlast- 
ing mercies of God, and a subordinate regard to our 
own interest, as affected thereby, do not betray a mean 
and unchristian selfishness, as some seem to represent, 
but form an esse'ntial trait in the truly pious character. 
If Moses, tlie first character for virtue in the Old Tes- 
tament, was^ in some degree incited to duty by the fu- 
ture recompense of reward ; if St. Paul and other em- 
inent Christians were constrained by the mercies of 
God, and the love of Christ in redemption, to live to his 
glory ; if the Redeemer himself was animated by the 
joy set before him ; then it cannot be base or crfminal 
for his disciples to be influenced by the same. 

We proceed now' to asceitain the measure of this love 
to God. We are to love him ''with all the heart, and 
with all the soul , and with all the mind, and with all the 
strength.'' This noble cluster of emphatical and nearly 
synonymous expressions is designed more forcibly to 
express this one great idea, that God ought to be loved 
to the highest possible degree of our natural capacities. 
We must love him *' with all our hearts," that is, with 
a cordial, unfeigned, governing aflection, in opposition 
to a double or divided heart, a part of which seems 



Ser. IV.] ON THE LOVE OF GOD. 51 

devoted to God and religion, while its supreme love 
and service are given to some other object. We must 
love him "with all our souls;" that is, with all the 
faculties of our souls. The understanding must be 
occupied in the contemplation of him ; the judgment 
must hold him in the highest esteem ; the will must em- 
brace him, as its chief good; and the affections meet 
and rest in him, as their central and ultimate object. 
We must love him ** with all our minds ;" that is, a 
well informed mind must be the guide, and a willing 
mind the spring and soul of our piety. Finally, we are 
to love him with ** all our strength ;" that is, our affec- 
tion must be vigorous and operative ; it must seize and 
strain every nerve, and exert the whole strength of our 
souls and bodies in the service of the glorious and be- 
loved object. In a word, these strong phrases do not 
imply, that divine lo^'e ought to swallow up our faculties 
in such a manner, as to extinguish ail our other passions, 
or shut out every innocent earthly object and entertain- 
ment, or keep the mind in a constant passionate rapture 
of religious zeal and joy ; they only intend, that love to 
God must steadily keep the throne in our breasts, and 
duly regulate and sanctify all our inferior affections and 
pursuits. 

Let us now, in the last place, attend to the superior 
importance of this divine principle. Love to our Maker 
is here styled the first and great commandment. It 
is so in regard of its object. As God is infinitely more 
excellent, than all other beings, so love to him must 
proportionably transcend ail other obligations and vir- 
tues. That affection, which embraces an infinite object, 
the sum of all being and beauty, seems to possess a sort 
of infinity, an amplitude, an elevation, a glory derived 
from and congenial to that of its object. Further, as 



52 6N TUE love of GOD. [Ser. IV. 

the infinite perfections of God, and his consequent 
authority over his rational creatures, are the foundation 
of all their religious and moral obligations ; so a due 
respect to these divine perfections and this authority- 
must be the ground v^ork of all religion, the prime 
moving spring of universal obedience. Without this re- 
gard to God, there is no holy, acceptable obedience in 
any instance whatever ; but where this exists, it ever 
leads to genuine religious obedience in every particular ; 
it forms the only sure, efficacious, and inflexible princi- 
ple of virtue. 

Again. The love of God appears greater than the 
love of our neighbour in another respect, namely, be- 
cause the latter is to be loved chiefly for the sake of the 
former, or as the oflfspring and image of God, and the 
object of his paternal affection. We are also to love 
our neighbour in subordination to God, so as to be 
ready to give up the most valuable and favourite crea- 
ture, when it comes in competition with the will, the fa- 
vour, the interest of the Creator. This is doubtless the 
import of that remarkable text, Luke xiv. 26, and was 
exemplified in Abraham, when he offered up the dear^ 
est earthly object. 

Blessed be God, we, who are parents, are not called, 
as was Abraham, to offer up an only son with our o^vn 
hands ; yet we are sometimes called to resign our belov- 
ed children, who are dear as a right hand, to the stroke 
of death. In such cases true love to God will unite our 
wills to his, will swallow up our natural and earthly 
affections in a supreme regard to his pleasure, his ap- 
probation and honour, and this will make us ultimately 
feel and act, as if we hated and despised the most be- 
loved creature, compared with the infinite Creator. 

Finally. The love of God is the first and great com- 
mand, as it is the principal source or ingredient of our 



• 



Seb. IV.] ON THE LOVE OF GOD. 53 

happiness. This divine affection directly tends to as- 
,similate us to its glorious and blessed object ; to en- 
laige, purify, and elevate our minds j to improve us in 
the various branches of moral goodness, vi^hich con- 
stitutes the health, the perfection, the felicity of our 
rational nature- Divme love unites us to God its object, 
and gives us tlie happifying enjoyment of him. As 
God is the soAereign good, the adequate portion of our 
souls, so love introduces us to the possession of this 
good ; it introduces us to an object, sufficient to employ, 
to entertain, to absorb all our faculties of contemplation 
and enjoyment. It unites us to a Friend, who is in- 
finitely wise, faithful, and good ; who has no unkindness 
to be suspected, no sorrows to be condoled, no change 
to be feared ; who is forever glorious and happy, and 
forever our own, and is always at hand to guard, assist, 
and comfort us. How great the happiness arising from 
an intercourse of love with such an object even in this 
state of distance and imperfection ! But how unspeakably 
greater the bliss of seeing him face to face in the light of 
future glory ; of beholding, loving, and enjoying him in 
an immediate, perfect, progressive manner forever and 
ever! Well might the Psalmist in the view of this 
blessedness exclaim, *' As for me, I will behold thy face 
in righteousness ; I shall be satisfied when I awake, 
with thy likeness ; for in thy presence is fulness of joy; 
at thy right harui there are pleasures for evermore." 

In the review of this subject, it is natural to reflect on 
the goodness as well, as propriety and justice of that di- 
vine constitution, which makes love to God the first du- 
ty of man. The divine Legislator herein has equally 
consulted and inseparably united his own rights and 
dignity, and our interest and happiness ; for this pious 
regard to the Deity is the main qualification for and 
ingredient in rational felicity. 



54 ON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Ser. IV. 

We likewise infer the destructive tendency of impdety 
and atheism, both to societies and individuals, by un- 
dermining the foundation of order, virtue, and rational 
felicity. We infer too the dangerous error of those 
moralists, vv^ho place the whole duty of man in the per- 
sonal and social virtues, while they overlook, and per- 
haps ridicule, as mere superstition or enthusiasm, the 
exercises of love and devotion towards God. It ap- 
pears from our doctrine, that piety is the basis and soul 
of moral excellence and human happiness ; that it is 
perfectly fit in itself, is necessary to the uniform, per- 
severing, and acceptable discharge of social and private 
obligations, and is essentially pre-requisite to the final 
approbation and enjoyment of God. Let our accom- 
plishments in other respects be ever so amiable or 
splendid, if we are eminently just and kind, generous 
and honourable towards our fellow men, and our character 
to human view is quite unexceptionable and noble ; yet 
if we treat the original beauty and good, the supreme 
Parent and Benefactor, with cold indifference or pointed 
opposition, we betray a very unnatural and monstrous 
state of mind, which is utterly inconsistent with real 
honesty and goodness. Let those, who have hitherto 
lived as without God in the world, labour to feel their 
guilt and danger, and earnestly seek the recovery of that 
divine temper, which is the root of human perfection and 
felicity. Let those, who possess it, be daily employed 
in feeling the sacred flame ; let the daily breath of their 
heaits and of their lives echo that becoming and elevated 
language of piety, "Whom have I in heaven but thee? 
and there is none upon earth, that I desire, besides thee. 
My flesh and my heart faileth ; but God is the strength 
of my heart and my portion forever." 



©ermon v. 



On the Love of our Neighbour. 



Mark xii. 31. 

And the second is like unto it, namely, this, Thou shah 
love thy neighbour as thyself, 

X- HIS and the preceding verse present to our view a 
beautiful compend of true religion. They contain the 
ans\^'er, which our Saviour gave to this important ques- 
tion, '^ Which is the great commandment in the law?" 
His first reply is, *' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart;.... this is the first and great coi^mand- 
ment." This verse holds up the superior obligation 
and importance of piety, or an inward governing regard 
to the Deity. Accordingly, the prime duty and excel- 
lence of love to God were the theme of our late medita- 
tions in this place. The words, fixed at the head of this 
discourse, call our attention to the second great duty of 
man, which is of similar importance as well, as insepa- 
rably connected with the first. " And the second is 
like unto it, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as 
thyself." 

In illustrating the subject before us, we will consider 
the object, the nature, the standaid, and the reasons of 
tlie duty enjoined. 

First. The object of this duty is our neighbour. But 
who is designated or included in this appellation ? If a 
Jew in our Saviour's day had been asked this question, 
he would have replied, those of my own kindred and 



.^ 



56 THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser. V. 

nation, of my own religious sect or denomination ; these, 
and these only, are my neighbours, and the proper ob- 
jects of my charitable affection. And if some bigoted 
professors of Christianity were interrogated in the same 
manner, I fear their hearts would echo the same reply, 
though perhaps they would blush to avow it with their 
lips. But if we apply to our divine Lord for a decision 
of this question, we shall find him determine it on a plan 
infinitely more 'noble and enlarged. When a Jewish 
lawyer asked him, *' And who is my neighbour ?" he 
relates to him the story of a certain Jew, who, falling in-, 
to the hands of robbers, was stripped, wounded, and 
left weltering in his gore. He w^as found in the road 
by two Jewish travellers ; a contracted, unfeeling priest, 
and a Levite of the same mean, and barbarous temper ; 
who, instead of commiserating and relieving the wretch- 
ed object, though one of their own country and religion, 
only gave him a cold, distant look, and passed by on the 
other side. At length a Samaritan, one of another na- 
tion, and of a quite different religion, with whom the 
Jews disdained any kind of intercourse, finds the unhap- 
py stranger, and his heart is instantly struck at the pitia- 
ble sight; his compassionate, beneficent love bursts forth 
through every barrier of national prejudice or party dis- 
tinction ; he embraces a professed enemy in the arms 
of fervent benevolence, and treats him with all the ten- 
der and generous kindness of a brother. *' Which, 
now, (says our Saviour) Vviiich of these three was neigh- 
bour to him, that fell among thieves ?" The lawyer 
readily answers, "He that shewed mercy on him.'* 
Then said Jesus, " Go thou, and do likewise. Look 
upon thyself a neighbour to every man, and every man 
a neighbour to thee. Let the stream of thy extended 
and active good will flow out to all, whom thou art capa- 
ble of serving, whether they be strangers or ac* 



Ser.v.] the love of our neighbour. 57 

quaintance, friends or foes, just or unjust." Thus the 
gospel holds up all mankind, as the object of our 
neighbourly and fi'aternal regards. 

Secondly. We are now to inquire into the nature of 
the affection here required to this object. And it is 
obvious to remark, that there are many things, which 
wear some appearance of love to mankind, which yet 
fall essentially short of the spirit of the duty before us. 
There is an instinctive and painful sympathy awakened 
by the sight of a fellow creature in distress, which en- 
gages our immediate efforts for his relief^ There is 
a sti^ong natural affection towards our kindred, especially 
towards our tender offspring. There is a characteristic 
sweetness and goodness of temper, which forms an early 
and constitutional feature in human characters. There 
is also an artificial politeness and generosity, the pro- 
duct of civilization and refinement, or at best of merely 
rational and philosophical considerations. There is like- 
Vise a warm affection to others, which grows out of a 
likeness or union of sentiment and disposition, of party 
or country, or which is nourished by the enjoyment or 
the hope of their partial friendship and beneficence to 
us ; not to add, that there is sometimes an affected dis- 
play of kindness and munificence to individuals, or of 
noble patriotic zeal for the public, which is prompted by 
merely vain or selfish motives, and sometimes by views 
very base and iniquitous. It is evident, at first sight, 
that neither of these apparent instances of benevolence, 
iior all of them combined, fulfil the extensive precept 
m the text. If you ask what further is included, we re- 
ply, genuine, virtuous love to our neighbour is ever 
founded upon and connected with piety, or a religious 
and prevailing regard to our Creator. If we love God 
with a supreme affection, we shall naturally love his 
rational offspring for his sake, on account of their near 



58 THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser.V, 

relation to him, and the image or display, which they 
present, of his glorious perfections ; we shall love and 
do them good from a pious respect to the example, the 
will, and the glory of their divine Parent and ours, who 
is good to all, who commands us to manifest our love to 
him by acts of kindness to his creatures, and who is 
greatly pleased and honoured by every effort to promote 
their felicity. In a word, since benevolence is the very 
nature and beauty of God himself, and since love to him 
and daily intercourse with him directly conduce to 
assimilate us more and more to his character ; it follows, 
that a pious affection to the Deity will soften and ex- 
pand the heart in godlike benevolence ; will kill a selfish, 
proud, and malignant spirit, and form its possessor to a 
gentle and forgiving, a just and fair, a sincere and faith- 
ful, a beneficent and liberal character. Thus the love 
of God and of our neighbour are intimately united; 
the one is the sure and effectual basis, the other the 
rising and beautiful superstructure of universal good- 
ness. As he, who truly knows and regards his Maker, 
will imitate and please him by loving and seeking the 
good of mankind ; so he, who has no proper affection 
towards God, can have no genuine love to man, nor 
any certain and commanding principle of social virtue. 
Agreeably, an inspired apostle assures us, that every 
one, who truly loveth his brother, is born of God, and 
knoweth God ; but he, that loveth not, knoweth not 
God ; for God is love. 

Further, as the love of our neighbour supposes a re- 
ligious principle, as its parent and support, so its prop- 
erties and fruits embrace the whole compass of social 
duty ; for all the commands of the ' second table are 
comprehended in this one sa} ing, " Thou shalt love 
thy neighbour as thyself." This is that charity, which is 
styled the bond of perfectness, because it is the life and 



Ser* v.] the love of our neighbour. 59 

perfection of ^very virtue, the uniting band or centre 
of the whole circle of Christian gi'aces. As all God's 
moral perfections and acts may be summed up in love, 
so all the affections and exercises, which we owe to our 
fellow men, are included in charity. This compre- 
hends, or effectually produces a proper esteem of their 
persons and stations, a virtuous and friendly complacen- 
cy in their characters, whenever they appear to be holy, 
or morally excellent, a cordial gratitude for their fa- 
voursi and above all, a benevolent, active zeal for their 
welfai-e. Love unites our hearts to the interest of its 
object, and engages us to desire, to pursue, and to re- 
joice in it as our own. Love is eyes to the blind and 
feet to the lame* It springs forward to relieve the chil- 
di'en of want and distress ; to compose and tranquiiize 
the sons of contention ; to enlightenj comfort, or estab- 
lish the ignorant, the wavering, or the faint-hearted in re- 
ligion ; and, in a word, to diffuse happiness all around, as 
fai' as it& ability can reach, through the family, through the 
vicinity, through the country, yea, through the whole 
brotherhood of man. If we would see this excellent virtue 
in its full dress, let us contemplate the noble picture of it 
drawn by the hand of inspiration in the 13th chapter of 
the first epistle to the Corinthians. " Charity," or love 
to our neighbour, *' suffereth long and is kind ; charity 
envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, does 
not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not 
easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in ini- 
quity, but in the truth ; beareth all things, believeth all 
things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." 

To throw still further light on this interesting sub- 
ject let us attend. 

Thirdly, To the standard or measure of the affection 
required. We are commanded to love our neighbour 



60 'THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser.V. 

as ourselves. But what is the import of this remarka^ 
hie phrase ? We answer, it seems capable of a three- 
fold construction. It may intend an equality of degree^ 
This is the sense of some learned expositors. But sup- 
pose we possess an equal affection to our neighbour as 
to ourselves, it will not follow, that we must or can pay 
the same degree of practical attention to his welfare, as 
to our own ; for besides the one common affection 
to him and ourselves, we all possess a variety of 
private appetites and passions ; and to provide for and 
gratify these, must necessarily occupy a peculiar and 
large portion of our time and pursuits. Besides, we 
have a far more immediate, and constant, and lively 
view of our o^vii interests as well, as far more frequent 
and advantageous opportunities to promote them, than 
we can have in reference to the interest of others ; and 
we are evidently entrusted by our Creatcw with the care 
of ourselves in a special sense, with the care of our own 
welfare as well, as of our moral behaviour. Admitting" 
therefore the possible existence and obligation of an 
equal inward benevolence to my neighbour as to my- 
self, yet I neither can nor ought to carry this principle 
fully into practice. Indeed the principle itself seems 
contrary to evident fact ; for all mankind, the most vir- 
tuous and enlarged as well, as the most contracted and 
vicious, have a natural, inseparaWe principle of self-love, 
which inspires a peculiar feeling for their own safety 
and happiness, as an important personal good j and to 
cherish and act upon this principle, within certain lim- 
its, is both proper and useful ; and far from being con- 
demned is plainly warranted by this very command, 
which presupposes the existence and lawfulness of this 
private affection, and makes it the rule of social. For 
in the next place, the phrase before us may import a 
similar kind of affection with that, which we ^ bear to 



SER. v.] THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 6i 

ourselves. As every man loves himself with a sincere 
and fervent, a vigorous and constant afieetion ; an affec- 
tion, which usually excites the most provident and in- 
dustrious care to avoid misery and secure happiness, 
which sweetens all his labours for that end, and which 
produces either great joy or grief in the attainment or 
disappointment of his favourite object ; so we ought to 
feel and express the same kind of regard to our neigh- 
bour, and thus to make his interest, his joys and sor- 
rows our own. 

Finally, here, the expression, as thyself^ impoits that 
our affection and attention to the good of others should 
bear a reasonable proportion to our love gjiid care of 
ourselves ; that after making particular and competent 
provision for our own welfare, our affectionate contriv- 
ance and endeavour, our talents and property must be 
consecrated to the good of mankind. In short, our 
text obliges us to feel and act towards our neighbours, 
on all occasions, just as vre should reasonably desire, 
that they should feel and conduct towards us, agreeably 
to that most impartial and excellent rule, '' Whatever 
ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so 
unto them." 

Do any inquire the reasons of this strict and exten- 
sive injunction ; or why so high a pitch of benevolence 
Js required of us ? The answer to this completes the 
plan of our discourse. And first, we are obliged to it, 
because it is fit and beautiful in itself. If my neigh- 
bour is equally worthy of esteem with myself; if he has 
equal capacity, need, and desire of happiness ; and if 
Jiis welfare be as valuable, as good in itself, and as pre- 
cious to him, as mine is to me ; then it is in its own na- 
ture right, that I should regard his person and interest 
as my own. Besides, all men are brediren, having the 
.same ccjnnion parent and origin, nature and condition, 



62 THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser. V* 

necessities and prospects, the same mutuai dependence 
and social affections ; it is therefore congruous and 
beautiful for them to feel and act towards one another 
upon the plan of brotherly love, reciprocal kindness, 
and generosity. We may add, the example of God 
and his Son enforces this obligation upon us. The 
whole name or character of God is comprised in 
love ; in wise, pure, comprehensive, almighty benevo. 
Jence. This is the grand spring of all the divine opera- 
tions in creation, providence and redemption. Now 
imitation of God is the first duty and highest excellence 
of man. A grateful sense of the rich, disinterested 
goodness of God and the Saviour to our rebellious 
world peculiarly becomes those, who are so infinitely 
indebted to this goodness : and where this gratitude 
prevails, it will engage us to love and do good to one 
another, as God has loved us all, and hereby to further 
the designs and spread the triumphs of divine benevo- 
lence as well, as to approve ourselves his gentle chil- 
dren and favourites. And since God has likewise en, 
joined this benevolent affection upon us by his own infi- 
nite authority, we cannot withhold it without trampling 
under foot the rights both of God and of man, and 
proving ourselves to be as destitute of piety, as we are 
of social virtue, Let me add, this love to one another 
is the foundation and soul both of public and individual 
happiness. By devoting each member of the commu- 
nity to the interest of all the rest, it secures and ad- 
vances the common good to the highest degree. This 
forms the faithful ruler, the obedient subject, the patri- 
otic citizen, the obliging neighbour, the united, vigo, 
rous, and happy society ! This not only gives to the 
several members of society the sublime pleasure, which 
arises from conscious goodness, from the reciprocal en- 
dearments and offices of love, but it puts each individ- 



Ser. V. THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 63 

ual in possession of the whole mass of good, enjoyed 
by all his fellow members, yea, in some sense, of all the 
good, which he sees diftused through the universe, 
since his benevolence enables him to rejoice in it as his 
own. Every argument therefore of intrinsic fitness, 
equity, and beauty, of divine authority and human in- 
terest and happiness, concurs to recommend the duty 
before us. 

In reflecting on the preceding subject, we are led to 
see in what sense Christian benevolence may be call- 
ed disinterested. It is not so in such a sense, as ex- 
cludes a regular and even peculiar love and care of our- 
selves, nor in such a sense, as would imply, that love to 
others is not as really our affection, or conducive to our 
own gratification and interest, as even self-lov6 can pos- 
sibly be ; for there is no temper or course of action, 
which produces such immediate, such rich and lasting 
enjoyment to the subject, as the habitual feeling, the 
conscious and successful exertion of Christian benevo- 
lence. The only sense therefore in which it can be 
called disinterested is, that it is not the offspring of 
mere natural self-love, but is derived from a source, 
which reg^ds an object, and pursues an end distinct 
from those of bare private affection, and is ever ready to 
sacrifice a lesser selfish interest to the superior good of 
its object. Yea, to offer up our whole personal happi- 
ness in time to the civil and religious interests of man- 
kind. 

Further, we learn that piety and social virtue must be 
united in order to complete a good chai-acter ; that nei- 
ther of them can be stable, genuine, or consistent with- 
out the other. We also learn Avhat is the most promi- 
nent feature, or the leading spirit and excellency of the 
Christian system, namely, love to God and man. With- 



64 THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser. V, 

out this the most orthodox faith, the most confident hope 
in the divine mercy and the merits of the Saviour, ancj 
the most zealous and scrupulous attendance on Chris* 
tian institutions will prove but vanity and delusion. 

Further, it is natural to ask, what benevolent or hu- 
mane motive can induce so many persons in this en- 
lightened age not only to reject Christianity themselves, 
but to labour to undermine its credit and influence 
among their fellow creatures ? Do they seriously wish 
to extirpate a religion, whose whole aim is to promote 
mutual love, usefulness, and happiness among men 
upon principles and motives, which alone can effectu- 
ally attain and permanently secure them ? 

To conclude, let us survey our own characters in the 
light of "this subject. Let us ask our consciences, 
whether we possess that love to our neighbour, to ev* 
ery person within our reach^ which is ready to treat 
him as another self, to seek and rejoice in his happi- 
ness, to feel and relieve his distresses, as if they were 
our own ? Have w^e that virtuous benevolence, which 
renders us uniformly amiable and useful actors in ev- 
ery station and relation in the family, the church, and 
the state ? And is the whole system of o^p social vir- 
tues built upon and supported by supreme love to 
God, and a cordial faith in his Son ? These are the 
grand questions, which must decide our fate. All oth- 
er accomplishments, short of love, prophecies, knowl- 
edge, tongues, yea, faith and hope shall vanish .away. 

That there is a principle in good men, which answers 
to this description, or which seeks and rests in the good 
of others, as its ultimate end, is proclaimed by the 
united voice of experience, of reason, and Scripture^ 
But though this disinterested affection be an eminent 
branch of the Chiistian temper, yet it does not (as some 



Ser. v.] THt: LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 6S 

have maintained) constitute tlie whole definition of 
\irtue, or comprise all the parts of an excellent humaa 
character. As it does not extinguish the other inno- 
cent feelings of human nature, so neither does it entirc- 
ly change or sublimate them into itself. There is no 
inconsistency, either in theor}^ or in fact, between a sub- 
ordinate regard to our own interest and a benevolent 
affection to the general good, any more than between 
the private attraction of cohesion and the public law of 
gravitation in the natural world; but as the former 
guards the existence and welfare of individual bodies, 
while the latter makes all these individuals conspire to 
the general order and utility of the whole ; so in the 
breast of the good man private self-love superintends 
and promotes his personal welfare, while public benev- 
olence seeks the general good of his fellow beings. 
While a virtuous love of otliers unites his heart to their 
interest, and makes it his own, self-love, as a secondary 
principle, prompts him to seek it as a mean of his own 
gratification and enjoyment; for self-love necessarily 
desires' and pursues whatever it finds conducive to per- 
sonal happiness, and therefore often has a concomitant 
and harmless influence even in the most general be- 
neficent actions. 

I need not remind you, that you will presently have 
an opportunity to give a practical answer to these ques- 
tions, to determine whether your religion consists in a 
mere ceremonious observance of pious institutions, or 
whether it unites mercy with sacrifice ; whether the 
character of any of you, like that of the hypocritical 
Pharisees of old, combines an unfeeling, covetous, and 
barbarous disposition towards man with the parade of 
devotion and sanctity towards God, or like that of the 
good Centurion, sends up the united fragrance of pray- 



66 THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [S£». V. 

ers and alms, of fervent piety and liberal charity, as an 
acceptable memorial before God, 

Let us solemnly remember, that all other aceom* 
I>iishments, short of love to God and man, whether 
prophecies, knowledge, tongues, yea^ faith and hope 
shall vanish away. But charity never faileth ; it forms 
the spirit, employment, and bliss of perfect and happy 
immortals. Well therefore might the apostle conclude 
his encomium upon this excellent grace with' those 
memorable words ; ' ' And now abideth faith, hope, char- 
ity, these three ; bat the greatest of these is charity*" 



Sermon vl 
On Christian Charity, 



1 Cor. xiii. 13. 

T^^ gr^cLtest of these is charity. 

HE apostle in this chapter delivers a fervent and 
sublime encomia m on charity, and ranks it faf above the 
most splendid gifts, which can adorn either men, or 
angels. 

There seenjs to have been an' invidious emulation 
among the Corinthians on account of their miraculous 
spiritual gifts, and a proud ostentation in the exercise of 
them. Hence, at the close of the preceding chapter, af- 
ter enumerating and commending some of the most dis- 
tinguished of these gifts, and exhorting the Christians at 
Corinth to ** covet them," yea, to '' covet them earnest- 
ly," the apostle adds, that he would yet " shew them a 
more excellent way ;" that is, something, which had a 
better claim to their zeal and pursuit, and which would 
contribute more to their honour, usefulness, and joy. 

But what is this '' more excellent way ?" It is charity 
or Christian love ; \^ hich is here opposed and preferred, 
not only to extraordinary knowledge and eloquence, to 
prophetic and miraculous powers, but to the gi^eatest ex- 
ploits of apparent benevolence and religious zeal ; sucti 
as devoting all our goods to the relief of the poor, and 
even our bodies to the flame in the cause of truth and 
holiness ; the first of which has the appearance of un- 
common love to men, and the last, of exti-aordinary love 
t 



68 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VI. 

to God. Yet if these are only appearances ; if the in- 
ward principles producing them are pride, vain- glory, 
natural fortitude or obstinacy of temper, or some simi- 
lar motive, without any sincere respect to the glory of 
God, or the happiness of^mani'^in this case, the life and 
substance of charity are wanting, and these plausible ac- 
tions are but a hollow, deceitful, and unprofitable show. 

The apostle furdier tells us, that these shining accom- 
plishments and appearances will soon forever cease ; but 
that true charity never failefli. 

In the last verse of the chapter, he prefers love to 
other Christian graces, as he had before preferred it to 
extraordinary gifts. " And now abideth faith, hope, 
charity ; these three ; but the greatest of these is chari- 
ty :" q. d. now, or during the present imperfect and mili- 
tant state of the church, each of these three graces is use- 
ful and necessary, and therefore must abide in the church 
at large, and in the bosom of each of its sincere mem- 
bers. Yet still charity is the greatest of the tlii-ee, both 
in its nature and duration. 

In further discoursing on the subject, we will more 
fully describe the virtue of charity, and then show its 
pre-eminence above all other duties and graces as well, 
as above the most illustrious and even supernatural gifts. 

In explaining the Jiature of charity, it is proper to ob- 
serve, that the original word precisely signifies love. It 
therefore denotes something far more noble and exten- 
sive, than mere acts of mercy and liberality to the needy, 
or sentiments of candour and Catholicism towards our 
fellow Christians. The former of diese often flow from 
a kind of mechanical benevolence, or occasional sym- 
pathy ; while the latter in many cases imply and pro- 
tect a spirit of indifference to all religious principles and 
duties. When this is the case, our disposition to suc- 
*e0Hr*thewretclied is rather an amiable instinct, than a 



Seii. VCj ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 69 

Christian grace ; and our pretended candour is rather a 
vice, than a virtue. 

Evangelical charity is a principle infinitely superior to 
these. It is a right disposition of mind towards all in- 
tellectual beings, and, above all, towards God. himself, 
the fountain and summary of being, perfection, and hap- 
piness. It implies such a fixed view, and esteem of God's 
transcendent greatness, rectitude, and glory, as engage 
us to consecrate all our faculties, aftections, and actions 
to him, desiring above all things to imitate and honour 
him, and sujicrlatively delighting in him as the Supreme 
Beauty and Good- As lave to an excellent human 
friend, benefactor, and ruler implies complacency in his 
character and government, an earnest pursuit of his hapi* 
piness and horiour, and a high estimation of his com^ 
pany and friendship ; so love to God involves a re\'eren- 
tial affection to his awful and amiable attributes, a cor- 
dial acquiescence in his perfect administration^ a su- 
preme devotion to his interest, an unlimited desire of 
his favour and delight in his fellowship, habitual gratitude 
for his benefits, and a studious^ practical conformity tp 
his moral chai:acter and will. In a word, true friend- 
ship to the Most High embraces his whole undivided 
character ; it relishes his holiness and justice as well, as 
his goodness ; it loves him for his own essential loveli- 
ness as well, as for his communicated benefits. 

M we love God in the manner no\v defined, we shall 
naturally iQve his rational offspring for his sake, on ac« 
count of their near relation to him, and the image^ 
which tlKiy bear, of his glorious perfections. We shall 
exercise benevolence to them from a pious respect to 
the example, the pleasure, and the honour of their di- 
vine Pareait iuid ours, who Joves and docs good both 
to us and them, who commands us tp* show our affection 
to him by acts of kindness to them, and who is greatly 



70 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. r-. er.VL 

pleased and glorified by every effort to advance their vir- 
tue and happiness. Since benevolence is the nature and 
beauty of God himself; since love to him and daily in- 
tercourse with him beget increasing likeness to his char^ 
acter, we instantly perceive that a devout affection to the 
Deity will soften and expand the heart in godlike be- 
nevolence, will kill a selfish, proud, and malignant spir, 
it, and form its possessor to a gentle and forgiving, a just 
and fair, a sincere and faithful, a beneficent and liberal 
character. 

Thus love to God and charity to our neighbour are 
inseparably united; the one is the sure basis, the 
other the beautiful superstructure, of universal good- 
ness. As he, who truly knows and regards his Maker, 
will imitate and please him by loving and seeking the 
good of his creatures ; so he, who has no proper affec- 
tion to the great Parent, can have no genuine love to hi§ 
children, nor any commanding principle of social virtue. 
He, who beholds the creation with thp eyes of specula- 
tive or practical atheism, can see no order nor beauty in 
the system to draw and bind his affections to it, or to 
give him a lively and permanent interest in its happiness. 
Agreeably, an inspired apostle assures us, that ■ - every 
one, who loveth him that begat, loveth him also, that 13 
begotten of him;" that *' every one, who loveth hi3 
brother, is born of God, and knoweth God ; but he 
that loveth not, knoweth not God ; for God is love." 

As charity to our neighbour thus grows out of religr 
ious principle, so its properties and fruits embrace the 
whole compass of social duty. Hence loye to nian is 
istyled the fulfilling of the law, and the bond of perfect-, 
ness ; because it gives being and perfection to every 
moral virtue ; because it unites and concentrates all sor 
cial duties. As all God's moral perfections and actions 
are summed up in love, as so niany different modifications 



ser.vx.] ov christian charity. 71 

and expressions of it, so all the affections and offices, x^hicK 
we owe to mankind, are included in charity. This 
comprehends, and produces, a proper esteem of their 
persons and stations, a virtuous complacency in their 
excellent qualities, a cordial gratitude for their favours, 
and, above all, a benevolent pursuit of their welfare. 
By uniting our hearts to their interest, it makes us seek, 
and rejoice in it, as our own. 

If we would see this generous virtue in its full size 
and beauty, let us minutely survey its several features, 
as drawn by the hand of inspiration in this chapter. 
'* Charity suffereth long and is kind;" that is, she is 
slo^v to resent injuries, and prompt to confer benefits. 
*' Charity envieth not ;" she does not grieve at the ex- 
cellence or happiness of others. *' Charity vaunteth 
not herself, is not puffed up, doth not behave herself 
unseemly ;" that is, she does not proudly feel, nor os- 
tentatiously exhibit, her own advantages ; nor treat with 
Supercilious airs those, who are placed below her ; but 
her whole deportment is modest and decorous. 
" Seeketh not her own ;" far from moving in the nar. 
row circle of self-interest, she sacrifices personal ease 
and profit to the general good. ^' Is not easily provok- 
ed j" she not only refrains from causeless and exces- 
sive anger, but maintains a dignified composure even 
under great provocations. " Thinketh no evil ;" she 
does not easily suspect evil of others, nor does she wish 
or contrive evil against them, ** Rejoiceth not in ini- 
quity ;" she takes no pleasure either in^ the unjust ac- 
tions or sufferings of her neighbour. *' But rejoiceth 
}n the truth;" she is delighted in beholding innocence 
vindicated, and the cause of truth and righteousness 
triumph. *' Beareth all things ;" that is, she covers 
the infirmities and faults of others, as far as is possible* 
or safe, with the mantle of silence and forbearance. 



72 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VI, 

" Belie veth all things ;" that is, she is ready to believe 
as favourably as possible concerning every person ; she 
will not impute falsehood or evil to any without con- 
vincing evidence. '' Hopeth all things ; she will not 
despair of her neighbour's repentance and salvation, so 
long as there remains a possibility of his amendment. 
"Endureth all things;" she supports every evil from 
God, and ever}^ misfortune from men, with meekness 
and equanimity. 

Having gone over this beautiful description, w'e must 
stop a few moments to observe, that several articles in 
it must be understood in a qualified sense. 

When charity is represented, as bearing and enduring 
all tilings, this does not imply, that the Christian spirit 
savours of stoical apathy, or of weak pusillanimity ; that 
it has IX) feeling of calamity, and no resentment of injur, 
ry ; or that it is wholly unmoved by the sins and dis- 
tresses of others. But the idea is, that while Cluis-. 
tianity, on some occasions, allows the sorrowful and 
even angry emotions of nature, it also duly regulate^ 
and sooths them ; yea, renders them excellent means 
of trying and maturing our virtues, particularly our pa- 
tient resignation to God, and our tender^ active benevor 
lence to men. 

Again, when charity is represented, as believing ancj 
hoping all things, this by no means intends that Chris- 
tian love believes and hopes without, or even contrary 
to reasonable evidence. The charity of the gospel is 
not a blind and foolish principle. She does not bestow 
her complacency on all characters, principles, and ac- 
tions without inquiry or discrimination. She does not 
embrace those persons, as good men, whose avowed 
principles are evidently subversive of the faith and 
hope, the morals and piety of Christians. Nor does 
she admit to her fellowship those professed believei^s. 



Rer. VI.] ON- CHRISTlANrCHARITY. 73 

whose lives contradict and disgrace their profession. 
Though we are forbidden to judge ^he secrets of men's 
hearts, and are bound to think as favourably of them, as 
their visible profession and practice will allou"; yet it is 
no violation of charity to infer the badness of the tree 
from the corrupt quality of its fruits. It is an eternal 
maxim both of reason and revelation, " By their fruits 
ye shall know them." Those men therefore insult 
both our reason and religion, who lay claim to our 
Christian charity, and require us to believe and hope 
well concerning their present character and future well- 
being, or who insist that their hearts ai'e good, when 
their outward conduct is immoral or impious ; or when 
they habitually and knowingly allow themselves in 
some one forbidden course, though in other respects 
they may exhibit a decent and even amiable deport- 
ment. 

This leads me to remark further, that it is a danger- 
ous idea of charity to suppose, that it consists in a si- 
lent and courtly indulgence of those around us in all 
their follies and vices ; that it forbids us to give diem 
pam, or to hazard their resentment^ by faithfully re- 
provmg their transgressions, and labouring to reform 
them. Christian love does not oblioe us to suffer and 
bear all things in such a sense, as to tolerate and coun- 
tenance those things, which are evil. The same apos- 
tle, who gives us this soft and tender description of 
charity, was himself a zealous and constant reprover of 
\^ickedness. His whole life and ministry were em- 
ployed in admonishing and converting a sinful world. 
He tells us, that on a certain occasion he publicly with- 
stood a fellow-apostle to the flice, when he found him 
worthy of blame. In a word, the example of Christ 
himself, and many express precepts both of the Old 
Testament and the New, require us to show our Chj'is- 



74 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITlT. [Ssr. Vf. 

tian love by rebuking offenders, by seeking to recover 
them to the right path by every effort of faithful and 
prudent zeal. 

In fine, gospel charity has for its principal object the 
spiritual and immortal interests of mankind. The real 
Christian, having been deeply penetrated with the evil 
and danger of sin, with the importance of eternal real- 
ities, with the wonders and benefits of redeeming love, 
wiir desire above all things that his fellow sinners 
around him may have the same views, and partake in 
the same blessings with himself. His heart will echo 
the generous language of Paul to king Agrippa, " I 
would to God, that not only thou, but all that hear me, 
were both almost and altogether such as I am ;" were 
perfectly acquainted with the divine consolations and 
hopes of Christianity. 

Having lai'gely explained the nature, let us now con- 
sider the transcendent value of Christian love. The 
apostle in this chapter, and the Bible at large, give char- 
it}-, or real internal goodness, the preference to all those 
things, which are most apt to charm and dazzle man- 
kind ; such as religious ceremonies, extraordinary gifts, 
and ^ven the virtues of gospel faith and hope. We 
will close our present discourse \^h shewing the supe- 
riority of di^'i!le love to ceremonial duties. This supe- 
riority, though not expressed, is fully implied in the 
passage before us. 

The religion, which God prescribed to the Jews. 
consisted in part of positive institutions, or certain rites, 
which borrowed all their value and force from the will 
of the Deity. Gross and superstitious people were 
perpetually inclined to rest, and even glory in this class 
of duties, as a cover and compensation for the neglect of 
inward piety and chai^ity. But their successive proph- 
ets, and especially our divine Lord, constantly warned 



Ser. VI.] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 7S 

them of this dangerous error. The prophet Micah in 
particular, after declaring the insufficiency of mere cere- 
monies to procure the divine favour, adds, " He hath 
shewed thee, O man, what is good ; and what doth the 
Lord thy God require of thee, but to do justly, to love 
mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ?" Here jus- 
tice, mercy, and practical piety are eminently styled 
good ; that is, intrinsically, immutably, and eternally 
good, whereas the rites of the Levitical law were good 
only in an occasional and instrumental sense, or as tem- 
porary signs and means of true devotion, righteousness, 
and charity. 

The Pharisees in our Saviour's time were very exact, 
yea, over scrupulous in observing the ceremonies of the 
law ; yet Christ brands them as vile hypocrites on this 
very account ; that is, because this ritual punctuality was 
united with, and intended to compound for, the neglect 
of the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, 
and the love of God. 

The same remarks will apply to the sacraments or 
positive rites of Cliristianity. They are only signs and 
instruments of love to God and man ; and if they usurp 
the place of this, they will defeat, instead of promoting 
the end and life of religion. 

Christian baptism is a very significant and useful 
rite ; but how does it save or profit us? Not by putting 
away the filth of the flesh, not by washing or cleansing 
the body, but by the answer or engagement of a good 
conscience towai'd God ; that is, it conduces to our 
benefit only, as it binds and urges us to real holiness. 
If therefore those, who present themselves or their 
children to this ordinance, do not honestly intend 
and improve it to this end, they not only destroy 



y§ 01>{ CHRISTIAN CHARITY. . [Ser. Vi, 

its value, but convict themselves of hypocrisy and 
perfidy. 

fjj 'Jhe^ Lcard's supper is a most excellent institution ; be- 
clause it is not only a most impressive renewal of our 
bapti^ipai oath^ but when duly observed tends to enkia-. 
die the v^^nnest gratitude to God and the Redeemer^ 
to unite^^Christians into one affectionate family, to en- 
gage them to a studious imitation of that; love, which 
they celebrate, and thus to improve them in universal; 
goodness. 

Chiistian love and its practical fruits are therefore the 
end and soul of these sacraments. If we do not sin- 
cerely use them, ^S; signs and instruments of this hea- 
venly temper, we and our religious profession are. noth- 
ings ; we cpntradict, defeat and disgrace these holy ordi- 
nances, and thus pervert appointed means of good intQ 
engines of unspeakable guilt and mischief, both to our- 
selves and others. J|t appears, the;n, that no relig- 
ious rites have any value compared wi]th^ or separate 
irom Love. 



©ermon vn. 



H 



On Christian Charity* 



1 Cor. xiiL 13. 
•The greatest of these is charity. 



AVING described the nature of charity, and 
shown its superiority to ceremonial duties, we proceed 
secondly to prove, that it is also greater than the most 
splendid and even miraculous gifts. 

The apostle in this chapter enumerates some of the 
extraordinary powers, which were conferred on the firsit 
preachers, and many of the first disciples of our religion ; 
such as the gift of tongues, of prophecy, of understancj- 
ing mysteries, and of working miracles. But these 
gifts, though more dazzling, are far inferior to the low- 
est degree of divine love. For the latter is a vital and 
transforming principle, which iniparts to it3 possessor a 
new and divine nature, a permanent and excellent char- 
acter ; but the fornier may be styled adventitious ac- 
complishments, which do not penetrate and sanctif}^ the 
heart, but when bestowed on a vicious man, leave him 
as unholy and wicked as before ; as in the case of Ba- 
laam, Judas, and others, whose miraculous gifts qual- 
ified them to edify others, but did not meliorate their 
own characters. 

The spirit of love is a peculiai' mark and seal of 
God's favourite children, and a sure pledge of future 
happiness. But the greatest gifts are often dispensed to 
the heirs of perdition. Agreeably, Christ tells us that 



78 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VIL 

many, who have prophesied in his name, and done ma- 
ny wonderful ^^^orks, shall be rejected at last among the 
workers of iniquity. 

We may add, that gifts the most distinguished must 
ere long fail, but love will last forever. As the apostle 
enlarges on this idea, in order to show the pre-emi- 
nence of love, we will be somewhat particular in the fl* 
lustration of it. 

"Charity," says he, "never faileth; but whether 
there be prophecies, they shall fail ; whether there be 
tongues, they shall cease ; whether there t^e knowledge, 
it shall vanish away," These miraculous gifts were 
soon to cease from the church, because the occasion of 
them was temporary. When the evidence of them was 
once completed, the whole canon of Scripture finished 
and widely dispersed, the gospel fully propagated, and 
the church of Christ enlarged and firmly established; 
the extraordinary manifestation of the Spirit was no 
longer needed, and therefore was withdrawn. But 
charity w^s never to withdraw itself from the bosom of 
the church, or the hearts of her real members. The 
obligation, necessity, and advantage of love are perpet- 
ual. The honour of God and his Son, the comfort, 
strength, and glory of Zion, the successful propagation 
of Christian truth in the surrounding world, must ever 
depend upon the culture of this divine tenaper. Then, 
and only then, does the church of Christ appear a glo- 
rious fabric, when love cernents its several parts, and 
difiuses itself through the whole. When the edifice of 
the church was once raised, extraordinary gifts, like the 
scaffolding of the building, were taken away ; but char- 
Jty, being an essential part, a main pillar as well, as the 
most delightful ornament of the structure, must still re- 
main to beautify and support it. 



Ser. VII.] GN CHRISTIAN CHARITY. f§ 

As love can never fail in the church on earth, so it 
-^-ill always live in the New Jerusalem above. There, 
the extraordinary gifts of the apostolic age ^\ill not be 
needed, but will be lost forever in the perfect light of heav- 
en, as the4winkling stars vanish before the rising sun. 
** Now," says the apostle, '' we know in part ; but when 
that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part 
shall be done away. For now we see through a glass 
darkl}^ but then face to face ; now I know in part, but 
then shall I know even as I also am known;" that is, 
I shall know myself and superior beings, shall know God 
and his works, in a manner so dirept and intuitive, in ,a 
degree so perfect and elevated, that my present knov\1- 
edge, though aided by miraculous inspiration, Is childish 
folly, yea, darkness in the comparison. 

In consequence of this perfect knowledge, love shafi 
never fail, but grow and expand to eternity. The glo- 
rified Christie will love his Master and Redeemer witji 
an ardour and strength equal to his kno\yledge. As he 
will never cease for a moment to e^^ert and enlarge his 
understanding upon the divine perfections ; so his adr 
miring and devout affection to this infinite object will 
ever keep pace with this constant exertion and improve- 
ment of his understanding. At the same time the unceas- 
ing complacential smiles and beatific communications of 
God to him will call forth his highest, his perpetual ef- 
forts of gratitude and praise. With what afiectionate 
rapture will he behold the glory, and enjoy the society, 
of his exalted Redeemer ! How will he gaze on that ber 
loved and majestic face, which was once torn with thorns 
and pale with death, but is now arrayed in divine beau- 
ty and splendour ! With what tender, yet awful affection 
will he behold the marks of those sufferings, and of that 
love, which procured his salvation ! 



go ION CHRISTIAN CHARITY. {Ser.VIL 

The saints in glory, being thus united to God by per- 
fect knowledge and love, will of course be united to one 
another in fervent charity. Their perfect knowledge of 
the truth and of each other's characters will forever ban- 
ish those mistakes and divided opinions, which in this 
world so frequently produce mutual shiness, alienation, 
and injurious treatment. The celestial commiinity will 
not, like earthly societies, be composed of members, 
possessing jarring sentiments, dispositions, and charac^ 
ters. Each member of that fraternity will fully know 
and appreciate every excellent quality, possessed: by any 
other member. He will also perceive tjie near and iur 
separable union, which every one bears to the Deity. Of 
course he will feel himself linked to every fellow meni- 
ber, and to the whole, by the most endearing ties of 
friendship and benevolence. 

As the maturity of knowledge, so the perfect rectitude 
of will and of moral character among the blessed, will 
exalt and perpetuate their charity. This divine affection 
will never be checked or interrupted by inferior arid 
opposing passions. The pure love of holiness, filling 
every heart, will unite each member to his holy and per^ 
feet associates, and, above all, to that Being, who is the 
source and sum of moral rectitude and beauty. 

The complete happiness of glorified saints will also 
nourish the flame of their charity. As the capacity of 
each one will be perfectly filled with joy, he will of 
course delight in the felicity of all his partners in bliss. 
There will be no room for jealousy or envy, in a state, 
w here every one possesses as much honour and blessed- 
ness, as his faculties can receive. We find in the presr 
ent w^orld, that when a man feels truly happy in him- 
self, his heart naturally overflows with benevolence to 
others. What then may be expected in the region of 
complete and universal happiness ? How naturally will 



Ser. VII.l ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 81 

the spirits of the blessed inhabitants mingle with one 
another, and each individual enjoy the transports of e very- 
kindred spirit, and the common felicity of the whole ! 
With what pure and ever gi'owing delight will they 
unite their hearts and voices, both in conversation and 
in praise ? With what sacred friendship will they con- 
template, promote, and rejoice in each other's perfection 
and blessedness ! 

Well therefore may charity be ranked above the 
greatest gifts, since it not only infinitely excels them in 
point of duration, but forms the principal happiness and 
glory of celestial beings. It remains tliat we shew, 
, In the ^/zirfi^ place, that love is superior even to Christian 
faith and hope. Though these are far more valuable, 
than even the extraordhiary communications of the Spir- 
it ; though they are essential and abiding graces in the 
church below ; yet in real worth and duration they must 
yield to charity. 

By faith is intended a fii'm and vital belief of the 
truths of the gospel ; and by hope, a well grounded and 
joyful expectation of its promised blessings. Both these 
graces are indispensably necessary, and liighly beneficial, 
in tliis state of imperfection and trial, while the Chris- 
tian remains at a distance from the great Object of his 
expected felicity. In such a situation he necessarily 
walks by faith, and lives upon hope. Bodi his character 
and comfort are sustained and nourished by these vir- 
tues : yet still faith and hope, strictly speaking, ai'e but 
temporary graces. For where vision begins, faith ends. 
Agreeably, faith and sight are opposed to each other. 
Hope is also confined to this state of imperfection, and 
implies that its object is not fully seen and enjoyed; 
'* for," as the apostle reasons, " what a man seeth, why 
doth he yet hope for?" Complete fruition will therefore 
put a final period to hope. At least, neither of these two 



82 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser-VII. 

graced can exist in the same mode, or have the same 
use, in a world of perfect knowledge and enjoyment, 
which they possess in the present state. But it is the 
prerogative of charity to derive new and immortal vigour 
from that very sight and fruition, in which these other 
graces are forever lost. 

I must also add, that while these virtues continue, love 
still has the pre-eminence ; for faith, considered as dis- 
tinct from charity, is an act or accomplishment of the 
understanding ; but love is a vital principle of the heart. 
Mere faith may exist in hypocrites, yea in devils ; bu^ 
charity forms the main characteristic of holy and virtuous 
beings. I grant that faith is often represented in the 
gospel, as the root of moral and Christian excellence, as 
tlie rinedium of a saving union to and interest in the Re- 
deemer ; as the great condition of the sinner's justification 
and eternal happiness. But when faith is thus described* 
and extolled, it ahv^ays intends a belief of the heart as 
well, as of the head, and is accordingly expressed by 
phrases, which denote a cordial and practical affection to 
Christ as well, as a speculative assent to his doctrines. 
No person can truly receive Christ, come to him, trust 
and rejoice in him, or in one word, comply with his 
method of salvation, without sincerely loving his charac- 
tier and requirements. So far therefore as our faith is 
truly virtuous and saving, it is love, which makes and 
proves it to be so. Accordingly, faith ^ without love and 
corresponding obedience, is declared to be unprofitable 
and dead. 

Hope likewise is no further a Christian grace, than 
it implies and nourishes a spirit of charity. Without 
this, it is a merely selfish passion, which terminates its 
desires and expectations in personal happiness. It be- 
comes a gospel virtue only, when it delights in God, 
and expects its ultimate blessedness in him ; when it af- 



ser. vil] on christian charity. 83 

fectionately anticipates the heavenly felicity, as the fruit 
and crown of present holiness, as mainly consisting ir^ 
the perfect exercises and joys of virtuous love ; and as 
embracing the consummate happiness of all its fellow 
saints, united with the highest glory of God and his 
Son ; and when these generous prospects expand the 
heart with the best affections toward God and man. 

As love is thus the life of Christian faith and hope, so 
it is their designed end and perfection. The main use 
of the two latter is to invigorate and mature the former. 
When man by sin had lost the image of God, consist- 
ing in love, and of course was cut off from his favour, a 
revelation of divine mercy was needful for his recovery. 
By believing and hoping in this merciful revelation, the 
guilty offender is encouraged and allured to return to 
God by filial love and obedience, and thus the work of 
charity, or real holiness, is gradually perfected in his 
nature. As love therefore is the end of divine revela- 
tion, and indeed the end and substance of all religion, 
so faith and hope are means to this end. Their office 
and glory consist in being handmaids to charity ; and 
when they have reared her to maturity, and conducted 
her to the door of her appointed celestial habitation, 
they will resign their employment and existence forever. 

We might further remark, that the immediate object 
and fruit of charity far excel those of the two other vir- 
tues. The object of virtuous love is the universe, in- 
cluding the Creator and all his rational creatures. Its 
fruit is the greatest public good, which it has power to 
produce. It directly seeks and promotes the common 
happiness. It immediately forms the generous, active 
friend, patriot, and philanthropist. But mere faith and 
'hope are private virtues, which more immediately re- 
gard and secure personal benefit. 

R 



84 ON CHRISTIAN JCHARITY. [Shr. VJI. 

Finally, the crowning pre-eminence of love is, that it 
^directly assimilates and unites the soul to its Maker. 
** God is love." This characterizes his whole nature 
and conduct. His wisdom is but enlightened benevo- 
lence, planning the best means of extensive good. His 
power is but the energy of love, giving full effect to 
these means. His truth is the sincerity and constancy 
of goodness. His holiness is but pure and comprehen- 
sive love, steadily regarding and pursuing the order 
and virtuous felicity of the moral system. His govern- 
ing justice, even as exercised in threatening, chastising, 
and finally punishing sin, like that of good parents and 
rulers, secures the obedience and happiness of the 
whole, by needful warnings, by terrible, but wholesome 
examples. In short, it was infinite love, which made 
and redeemed, which supports and rules the world. 
That soul, therefore, w^hich is animated with holy love, 
possesses, according to its capacity, the image and life, 
the blessedness and glory of God himself. In the sub- 
lime language of inspiration, it is filled with all the ful- 
ness of God ; it dwells in God, and God in it ; it is 
one with God and with Christ, as he and his Father are 
one. But die two other Christian graces, though very 
necessary in imperfect creatures, yet do not so directly 
assimilate them to their Creator ; for there are no quali- 
ties in God, which resemble faith and hope in man ; 
the perfect knowledge and happiness of Deity exclude 
from his nature the existence of both. 

As our subject is in its ow^n nature practical, there is 
less need of a formal application. We shall there- 
fore close with a few short inferences, founded upon its 
leading branches. 

If charity be superior to ceremonial institutions, let 
us ever regard and improve them accordingly. Let us 
perform the duties of private and public worship, ^ 



frtjR. VII.3 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. «9 

expressions and instruments of real goodness. Let us 
never think there is any virtue in the mere formality of 
devotion ; much less in using it, as a compensation or 
license for the want or the violation of charity. Prayer 
without good affections and good works is a vain,- 
yea a polluted sacrifice. It is remarkable that the 
main spirit of our Lord's prescribed pattern of de- 
votion breathes and enforces pious and virtuous 
affection. By teaching us to call God our Father^ 
it inculcates filial love and conformity to him, and 
brotherly affection to all his children. By instructing 
us to pray for the universal sanctification of his name, 
extension of his kingdom, and fulfilment of his will, it 
forcibly inculcates not only piety, but universal benev- 
olence. By obliging us to profess forgiveness of inju- 
ries, it binds us to love and do good even to enemies, 
and thus to be perfect, as our Father in heaven is per- 
fect. How deplorably then is the duty of prayer de-, 
feated and perverted, if instead of 'Sincerely expressing 
and promoting a spirit of universal goodness, it nour- 
ishes sour bigotr}^ malignant superstition, pharisaical 
pride, sordid selfishness ; or encourages us to omit sub- 
stantial moral duties ! Let us then worship God in se- 
cret and with our families, let us observe the Sabbath 
and attend the peculiar ordinances of our religion, with 
a leading desire to attain the great end of these duties. 
Let us not despise or neglect these institutions, because 
some others attend them in a useless or hypocritical 
manner. Let us remember,' that in the preseitt state of 
man, and by the wise appointment of God, these ob- 
servances are indispensable symbols, guards, and pro- 
moters both of virtue and piety. 

Again. If charity be greater than even miraculous 
gifts, this should prevent our indulging envy or discon- 
tent on account of our inferiority to the primitive Chris- 



86 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY? [Ser, Vllr 

tians in respect of these extraordinary communications. 
It should awaken our gratitude and joy to reflect that, 
though we are denied these vouchsafements, which are- 
now unnecessary, we may still possess that real good- 
nfess, which is the principal thing. The most weak 
and illiterate true Christian may well be contented and 
joyful, when he considers, that though he wants those 
splendid gifts of nature and science, which adorn some 
characters around him, he possesses something infinite- 
ly more noble and happy ; that he is far greater in the 
sight of God, and of all good judges, than the most fa* 
voured son of genius and learning, who is a stranger to. 
Christian virtue. Persons of the highest intellectual acr 
complishments have also great reason for humility and 
candour, when they consider, that some of their most 
obscure neighbours or meanest domestics may proba- 
bly e:^cel theni ja that goodness, which constitutes real 
greatness. 

Finally. If charity be so far superior even to gospej 
faith and hope, let none of us rest in any appearance of the 
two latter, to the neglect of the former. Let us remem- 
ber, that the most orthodox faith will only condemn us, 
if our hearts and lives contradict and disgrace it ; that a 
zealous profession of the doctrines of evangelical grace 
and holiness will only convict U5 of odious inconsistence 
and hypocrisy, and enhance our future punishment, if 
we practically exhibit an ungracious and unholy dis- 
position. 

Let us, on the one hand, avoid the dangerous ex- 
tieme of exalting charity on the ruins of feitb ; or of 
supposing it a matter of indifference whether v^c believe 
the gospel or not, if we are but candid, decent, and 
blameless in our lives. As a guard against this error, 
let us remember that a man's real character is mainly 
formed by his prevailing belief; that the gospel, and 



Sir. VII.] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. ^' 

faith in it are the instruments appointed by God for re« 
covering us to real goodness ; that if we reject this di- 
vine religion, we not only lose its offered blessings and 
incur its threatened punishment, but prove ourselves 
destitute of that charity, which we fondly substitute in 
its room. 

But while we profess to believe and hope in the gos- 
pel, let us justify our profession by its fruits. Let our 
Christian knowledge, belief, and hope, produce and 
nourish Christian love, with all its benign and happy ef- 
fects. Let us embrace in the arms of our charity every 
professed believer, who appears to love God and his 
neighbour, even though his creed, or his hope, be not so 
correct or so stable as our own. By cherishing in our- 
selves and in all around us this heavenly temper, let us 
endeavour to make the Christian church on earth re- 
semble, as nearly as possible, tlie kingdom of heaven. 
In this way, let us be ripening for that world, where our 
present imperfect gifts and graces shall be lost or com» 
pleted in perfect light, enjoyment, and charity. 



®etmon Yin. 
On the Vices of the Tongue. 



James iii. 8. isri 

£ut the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly e^iUfull 
of deadly poison* 

T-. 'i^'; 
HE apostle in this chapter gives a lively represeA^* 
tation of the unbounded guilt and mischief produced by 
the tongue. He compares the mighty and extensive 
influence of this litde member to that of bits in the 
mouth of the horse, of the small helm, which com- 
mands the greatest ships, and of a little fire spreading 
into a devouring flame. 

These similies are equally just and strong. For as 
the tongue, when duly governed, like a bridle or a 
helm, has a beneficent and commanding influence on 
the whole body, or on the general course of human ac- 
tion ; so a tongue loosened from moral restraint leads 
to dreadful consequences, resembling those of giving 
the reins to the unbroken steed, of neglecting the rud- 
der in the midst of rocks and tempests, or of letting a 
fire rage uncontrolled amid a large collection of com- 
bustible materials. Having previously observed, that 
the most fierce and venomous brutes have been tamed 
by mankind, he adds, in the text; *'But the tongue 
can no man tame ;" that is, either no man can subdue 
his own tongue in a perfect manner, or by his own in- 
dependent power and skill ; or none can tame the licen- 
tious lips of others, so as entirely to check the breath of 



Ser. VIII.} THE VICES OF THE TONGUE. S9 

slander and falsehood, of obscenity and profaneness, 
**It is an unruly evil," which breaks over the strongest 
barriers — " full of deadly poison;" ever ready to infect 
and kill the reputation, virtue, and comfort of all within 
its reach. 

The words thus explained lead us to enumerate and 
reprove the most common and glaring instances of this 
unruly and destructive evil. Though the apostle tells 
us that no man can tame it, this should not discourage 
the friends and teachers of religion from attempting the 
necessary, though arduous task ; for with God all tilings 
are possible ; he has commanded us to warn the wick- 
ed ; and he often blesses his ow^n institutions for the 
conversion of his enemies as well, as the edification of 
his friends. 

The most prevalent and pernicious examples of an 
ungoverned tongue are those, which follow. 

First. Profane discourse. This comprehends an 
unmeaning, irreverent, or wanton use of the name of 
God, on trivial occasions ; to embellish the sallies of 
wit ; to give expression and force to the vehemence of 
passion ; to add new credit to assertions or promises ; 
to impress awe and submission on servants or inferiors ; 
or to display a spirit of independence, and a superiority 
to vulgar superstition. It also includes that more timid 
or implied profanity, which, though restrained by law, 
or by character, by some regard to friends or to con- 
science, from explicit irreverence or imprecation, is yet 
fond of lisping or abridging the language of impiety, and 
often steps on the borders of an oath, by transgressing 
the limits of simple affirmation or denial ! Are there any 
tongues in this assembly, which answer to either of 
these descriptions? I must faithfully admonish their 
owners, that they possess and are diftusing a poisonous 
and destructive evil. Their profane conversation is a 



96 ON THE VICES [See. VIII. 

dishonour to themselves, an injury to their compan- 
ions, an outrage to society, and an affront to their Maker. 

It i^ a dishonour to themselves, as it proclaims both 
their folly and rudeness. It certainly discovers a fool- 
ish and empty mind to introduce the most awful names 
and protestations to sanction trifles, to supply the want 
of sentiment, or to fill up the gaps of discourse. This 
practice is also foolish, as it has no plausible motive or 
excuse. It gratifies no constitutional appetite or pas- 
sion. It procures no advantage, pleasure, or glory. 
It displays no politeness or liberality. On the contrary, 
it offends all decent company by its coarseness and bar- 
barity. It insults the feelings, sentiments, and institu- 
tions of civilized men, but especially the religion and 
laws of every Christian community. It operates as a 
mortal pestilence to society by corrupting its moral and 
religious character, and thus subverting its order and 
welfare, and drawing down upon it the curse of Heaven. 
It is a deadly poison both to the state and the church by 
gradually extinguishing all reverence for the oaths of the 
former, and the sacred institutions of the latter. 

The profane swearer likewise unspeakably injures his 
associates, by depraving their moral faculties and feel- 
ings, or by lightly uttering against them the most dread- 
ful imprecations. He also commits practical suicide, 
either by directly wishing the curse of God on his own 
head, or by boldly challenging his almighty vengeance. 
He offers the greatest abuse to the name and attributes 
of Deity, by making them the expletives, the ornaments, 
or the attestations of every wanton or passionate effii- 
sion. He virtually and openly abjures his Christian 
baptism, and proclaims himself an infidel and a heathen. 
Agreeably, when Peter was charged with being a dis- 
ciple of Jesus, he in the hour of trial resorted to cursing 
and swearing, as a confutation of the charge. By this 



Ser. VIII.] OF THE TONGUE. 91 

kind of speech, so opposite to the known practice of 
Christ's followers, he eftectually denied his blessed Mas- 
ter. I have heard of young men in our own country, 
who having enjoyed a Christian education, and being re- 
moved from the eye and authority of pious parents and 
friends, have eagerly adopted the same method to con- 
vince their new associates of their sudden triumph over 
early prejudice and bigotry ! Let these united consid- 
erations prevail to banish from our discourse, from 
our houses and our streets, this most foolish j inex- 
cusable and detestable vice. Let none plead the force 
of habit as an excuse for continuing it. Those, who 
are most addicted to it, can easily refrain from com- 
mitting it in the presence of a fellow being, whom they 
respect. Shall not the constant presence of God have 
equal effect? The most abandoned swearer \^ould in- 
stantly renounce the practice, were he sure of losing his 
prostituted tongue the next time it uttered an oath. 
And shall not the threatening of a far greater punish- 
ment from the insulted Majesty of heaven have equal 
force in reforming offenders ? Let none shelter them- 
selves under the authority of modern example. Bless- 
ed be God, profaneness is not the fashionable style of 
New England. It is only the dialect of the most uncul- 
tivated, stupid, or profligate citizens. Let us scorn 
both the society and manners of such low beings, and 
aspire to the fellowship and imitation of those excellent 
ones of the earth, who reverence, love, and obey their 
Creator. 

n. A Second evil of the tongue is scoffing at religion, 
or ridiculing her sacred doctrines and institutions. 
Those who practically neglect, or secretly hate and de- 
spise Christianity, frequently resort to this practice in 
their own defence, and as an easy and striking method 



92 ON THE VrCES [Ser. VIII. 

of proving their superior wit, information, or liberality. 
As they are determined to disregard religion in their 
conduct, they naturally employ their tongues in justify* 
ing^ this determination. They seek to preserve and 
strengthen their own character and tranquillity by gain- 
ing over their companions to the side of irreligion : and 
since they cannot effect these purposes by argument, 
they supply the w^nt of reason by the cheaper commode 
ities of banter and ridicule. It is needless to em- 
ploy much time in exposing this vile prostitution of 
speech. That mouth, which reviles or scoffs at sacred 
things, is eminently entitled to every part of the de- 
scription, here given of an unruly tongue- " It is a fire, a 
world of iniquity ; it sctteth on fire the course of nature, 
and is set on fire of hell.'' It is ti'uly full of deadly poi- 
son ; for it is prompted by a mind fraught with harden- 
ed impiety and malignity. It employs the most unfair 
and wicked means to accomplish the worst end. It dif- 
fuses the most fatal and lasting evils. It poisons the 
springs of human action and comfort. It directly in- 
sults God, and corrupts his rational creatures. It does 
the greatest injury to religion and morality, and the high- 
est service to falsehood and wickedness. The person, 
who derides serious things, must be responsible at last, 
not only for his personal guilt, but for all that depravity 
of principle and conduct, which his infectious conversa- 
tion has propagated to others. 

III. A lying tongue is also an unruly and destructive 
evil. The Bible, and indeed the most approved sys- 
tems of ethics condemn every species of intentional 
falsehood. Lying is an offence against the God of 
truth. It is a perversion of the noble gift of speech. 
It violates the chief bond of social confidence, security, 
and order. Hence both God and man have ranked liars 
among the most criminal and infamous characters. 



SiBR.VIII.} OF THE TONGUE. ^^^ 

They are classed in the Scripture with whoremongers 
and murderers, and doomed to the same future punish- 
ment. Are there any in tliis audience, to whom this 
character belongs ; any w^ho in their bargains and deal- 
ings either magnify things abo\ e, or depreciate them 
below their known value, or in any other respect devi-^ 
ate from the trutii, for the sake of worldly advantage ;* 
who, when questioned by superiors, deny, extenuate, or 
conceal facts, which the sacred laws of truth, and the 
general good, oblige them to reveal ; who in their en- 
comiums knowingly ascribe to themselves or others 
greater talents or acquirements^ virtue, or performances, 
than they aie warranted by truth to do, or, in their cen- 
sures put false or aggravated constructions on the words 
and actions of their neighbour ; who in their promises 
engage to pay a debt, perform a work, or to do a kind- 
ness, when they either do not mean, or have not power 
to fulfil such engagement, or take no after care either to 
perform their promise, or seasonably to give notice of 
their inability ; or lastly, who in their common narra- 
tives utter fiction or exaggeration in the room of fact, 
or deliver positive assertions, which are unjustified or 
contradicted by their o^vn knowledge or persuasion? 
All, who are guilty in either of these particulars, com- 
mit a high offence against God, their neighbour, and 
human society. They resemble that deceitful and ma- 
lignant spirit, who was a liar from the beginning, and 
who is justly called the father of lies. 

IV. Scurrilous and reproachful language towards 
those, with whoiji we are connected, is another instance 
of an unruly tongue. This our Saviour tells us is a 
breach of the sixth commandment ; it is killing with 
the tongue. *' Whosoever is angry with his brother 
without cause," and in his passion calls him Racay thou 
base fellow, or t/ioti fooly shqill be in danger of God's 



94 ON THE VICES [Ser. VIII. 

future vengeance. Christianity requires us to put away- 
all bitterness and wrath, clamour and evil speaking, and 
to address even our servants and inferiors in the language 
of tenderness and benignity. The reverse of this is 
both inhuman and unchristian. Those, who freely dis- 
pense to those around them reproachful names and epi- 
thets, should consider that the persons, whom they thus 
abuse, have the same common nature, Father and Re- 
deemer with themselves ; that they may possibly inher- 
it as much sense, integrity, and goodness 5 that if they 
are subject to bodily or mental infirmities, to outward 
poverty and meanness, it is God, who has thus subject- 
ed them ; and if we deride them on these accounts, we ' 
reproach their Creator. Let us further consider, that 
many, who are visibly low and obscure, are rich in faith 
and holiness, and of course honourable in the eyes of 
God, and therefore ought to be respected by us. In 
short, contemptuous and bitter language is not only im- 
proper, but always useless and hurtful. It never com- 
inands that hearty respect and obedience from our infe- 
riors, which an opposite treatment secures. It sinks 
the character and authority of those, who use it ; while 
it fixes a deep wound and perhaps a lasting enmi-. 
ty in the bosoms of those who receive it, If reproach- 
ful w^ords are thus indecorous and criminal in superiors 
towards persons placed beneath them; they are still 
more heinous when used by the latter towards the for- 
mer. What an outrage against nature, decency, and 
virtue, for children to treat their parents, especially when 
aged, with the language of disrespect or contempt ! How 
shocking for the child, or the youth to behave himself 
proudly against the ancient ; or the base against the hon- 
ourable; or for subjects on every slight occasioitto re-^ 
vile their rulers ! 



Ser. VIII.] OF THE TONGUE. ^5 

Nearly related to this particular are the several forma 
of evil speaking, for instance, uttering things to the 
disadvantage of absent persons without any necessity or 
prospect of utility ; uncharitably censuring their actions, 
character, or state, or disturbing the harmony and com- 
fort of families and neighbourhoods by officiously inter- 
meddling with their concerns, by meanly prying into 
their transactions and secrets, and eagerly propagating 
and commenting upon them. This practice describes 
the whole company of tatlers and busy bodies^ ^vhom the 
apostle reproves with an air of mingled abhorrence and 
indignation. There is likewise a foolish talking and 
jesting, which St. Paul mentions as unbecoming the 
Christian character. Jesting or humorous discourse is 
not criminal, when employed merely for harmless and 
needful relaxation, or when used to chastise folly, error, 
and vice. But it is always sinful and injurious, when 
it is made the vehicle and promoter of levity or scandal, 
of infidelity or profaneness, of malice or obscenity. 

This brings us to a fifth and last instance of an un- 
ruly tongue, viz, filthy communication. This sin is pe- 
culiarly shameless, corrupting and infectious. It wages 
war with natural modesty, civil decorum, and Christian 
purity. It is a high offence against the pure nature and 
law of God. It evinces and increases the moral pollu- 
tion and vileiiess of the offender. It eminently dis- 
qualifies him for tlie pure exercises of religion, and the 
holy entertainnients of heaven. Like a moral poison, 
it conveys an impure and destructive contagion to oth- 
ers. It has greater influence in the propagation of vice, 
than perhaps any otjier kind of evil discourse. Hence 
St. Paul charges Christians, that uncleanness be not once 
nained among them ; he exhorts them to put it away 
from their months as well, as from their practice. 



m ON THE VICES [Ser. VIII. 

Having^ enumerated the principal evils of a licentious 
tongue, I will close with some general rules for the due 
government of our speech. 

1. Let us see that our hearts be truly and thoroughly 
sanctified. It is from the evil treasure of the heart, that 
the evil things above specified are produced. If the law 
of holy love to God and men were written in our 
hearts ; if we were constantly governed by it, as a liv- 
ing, all controlling principle ; we should not, we could 
not, willingly offend -either the one or the other, with 
our lips: we could not indulge, nor even endure, the 
language of impiety or falsehood, of slander or re- 
proach : it would not be a burdensome task, but our 
delight and glory to restrict our discourse within the 
bounds of Christian sobriety, benevolence, and piety. 
Our hearts being seasoned with grace, our speech 
would naturally be savory and edifying. Let it then be 
our first, our most anxious concern, that this inward 
fountain of our words and actions be purified by the 
word and spirit of God. 

2. In dependence on divine grace let us enter into 
a solemn resolution and covenant against the sins above 
reproved, and all others connected with them. Let us 
adopt and bind on our souls David's vow, Ps. xxxix. 
12. Let us make, and daily renew this engagement, in 
the presence and strength of Almighty God, without 
any equivocation or mental reserve. In this way we 
shall erect, and continually fortify a strong hold against 
temptation. 

3. Let us studiously avoid evil company. We in^ 
sensibly slide into a resemblance of our associates. This 
is remarkably verified in the facility, with which young 
persons of the most pious education catch the profane 
or indecent language of licentious companions. Let 
me then affectionately caution the children and youth of 



ser. viil] of the tongue. 9t 

this assembly to have no friendship, nor even society, 
with the ungodh' and dissokite. *'My son, if sinners 
entice thee, consent thou not. Enter not into the path 
of the vi^icked ; avoid it ; pass not by it ; turn from it, 
and pass away, lest thou learn his ways, and get a snai'c 
to thy soul." Let us also, who are parents and heads 
of families, use the greatest vigilance and authority in 
keeping our children, domestics, and houses pure from 
the dreadful contagion of evil company and conversa- 
tion. Otherwise our personal examples and instruc- 
tions, however excellent, will probably have but littie 
effect. 

4. Let us form a habit of deliberating, and serious- 
ly reviewing our thoughts, before we give them utter- 
ance. The author of the Psalms repeatedly mentions 
with contrition what he had spoken in his haste. Mo- 
ses, that pattern of meekness, once "spake unadvisedly 
with his lips," and forfeited Canaan by it, because he 
did not solemnly reflect, before he expressed his feel- 
ings. Most of us have probably transgressed in a sim- 
ilar manner. Let this teach us the needful lesson of 
correcting our first impressions by delibeiate reflection, 
before we give them the sanction of our lips. Let us 
likewise often meditate on the strict account which is 
kept of our vain and sinful speeches, by our omniscient 
Judge. He has assured us that for every idle word 
which men shall speak, they shall give account in the 
day of judgment. Let us habituate ourselves to reflect 
with a tender conscience on our daily discourse, and to 
humble ourselves in the presence of God for every of- 
fensive or unguarded word, which escapes us. Final- 
ly, let us by fervent and constant prayer put ourselves 
imder the gracious conduct and protection of Heaven : 
Let us daily offer the petition of David — " Set a watch, 
O Lord, before my mouth, keep the door of my lips." 



98 T HE VICES OF THE TONGUE. [Ser. VIII. 

Let me especially recommend these friendly counsels 
to the rising generation. Begin early, my young friends, 
to devote your hearts, and lips, and lives to your Crea- 
tor. Let your mouths be early accustomed to the lan- 
guage of purity and devotion, if you would hope to join 
in the holy conversation and praises of heaven ; for 
there shall in no wise enter into that blessed place any- 
thing that worketh, or speaketh abomination. 



©ermon ix. 
The Character of a Wise Man, 



•j;i-®4:«-::^ 



Psalm iii. 10. 
The Fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom* 

W ISDOM is a quality so honourable, that almost 
every man aspires to the reputation of possessing it ; 
and no character is generally accounted more disgrace- 
ful, than that of a fool. Many persons place a greater 
value upon reputed wisdom, than exemplary honesty, 
and esteem it a more grievous reproach to be taxed with 
weakness of understanding, than with badness of morals. 
But in the unerring judgment of Heaven, no man mer- 
its the appellation of %mse^ who is not truly good ; for, 
says the text, *' the fear of the Lord is the beginning 
of wisdom.'* 

The fear of the Lord, in the scriptural style, is but 
another name for the principle and practice of piety. It 
imports such affectionate veneration for the Most High, 
as produces a filial and effectual fear of offending him by 
disobedience, and prompts the most tender and earnest 
endeavours to please and to honour him. It therefore 
includes the whole of virtue, at least in its inward spirit, 
or commanding principle. When this fear of God is 
called the beginning of wisdom, the idea is, that true 
piety is the first principle, or the highest • ingredient of 
genuine wisdom. 

The text, therefore, direcdy leads us to illustrate, 
confirm., and apply the following proposition, 

T 



100 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser. IX. 

He, and he only is a wise man, who regulates his 
heart and Ufe by the doctrines and precepts of religion. 

The man of religion acts upon these two great princi- 
ples, First J that there is a God, who made and governs 
the world ; and Seco?tdfy, that this Supreme Ruler will 
reward or punish men in a future state for their moral 
behaviour in the present. We must add, that the pious 
and virtuous man, ^if favoured with the light of revelation, 
will also pay a sacred practical attention to the peculiar 
doctrines, duties, and motives of Christianity. Deeply 
impressed with the momentous discoveries presented to 
him by reason and scripture, he feels it to be his great 
interest, and makes it his supreme care so to conduct in 
this world, as to secure everlasting happiness in the next. 
Does not every rational mind instantly perceive and ap- 
plaud the wisdom of such a character ? Does it not pro- 
nounce the opposite to be a display of egregious folly ? 

But in order to place this subject in the most forcible 
point of view, we will make three different suppositions 
respecting the principlesj on which the behaviour of the 
virtuous man proceeds ; and we shall find that on either 
of those suppositions he acts a far wiser part, than the 
practical unbeliever. The great principles of natural 
and revealed religion may, for the sake of illustration, 
be considered either as false or doubtful, or as certainly 
true. 

In tlie first place, if we suppose for a ftw moments 
these principles to be false, as infidels and atheists pretend; 
yet in this case the man of piety and virtue ultimately 
loses nothing by his goodness, but evidently has the ad- 
vantagCi For his belief in God and providence, his 
contemplation and hope of immortality, though not final- 
ly realized, are a source of unspeakable comfort and 
benefit to him in the present state. They spread light, 
harmony, and beauty over the face of the natural and 



Ser. IX.] A WISE M.\N. 101 

moral world, which to the eye of atheistical philosophy 
present nothing but dark and chaotic confusion. The 
sentiment of a Deity and a future state gives a noble 
expansion and elevation to the soul ; it enlarges the 
understanding, dehghts the imagination, and rejoices the 
heart. It heightens all our innocent enjoyments, and 
inspires fortitude, serenity, and triumph under the pres- 
sure of outward calamity. It gives vigour, stability, and 
pleasure to the practice of those virtues, which contri- 
bute to health and peace, to reputation and competence. 

1. The man of religious principles and strict morals 
has vastly the advantage of the opposite character in 
respect to healthy that prime source of temporal happi- 
ness. Religious virtue, comprising habitual temperancCj^ 
charity, and devotion, and implying a well regulated, 
calm, and cheerful spirit, is exceedingly friendly to the 
regulai', vigorous and happy tone of our bodies : as 
Solomon emphatically expresses it, it is health to tJie 

jlesh^ and marrow to the bones. But vicious passions and 
indulgences, a disordered heart, and an idle, intemperate, 
licentious life, waste the animal constitution, and yield 
the body a prey to disease and pain, *^d frequently to 
untimely dissolution. 

2. Religious wisdom is the parent of mental tranquil- 
lity ; while uneasiness and anxiety are the insepai'able 
fruit and curse of sinful propensities. View the man, 
who is devoted to sensuality, ambition, or avarice. He 
must rise early, sit up late, pursue his dark design, with 
cautious and persevering labour, with a fearful and mis- 
giving mind ; he must invent and practise a tliousandl 
expedients to accomplish and- to disguise his unworthy 
object : while the honest, humble, contented child of 
virtue is good and pious at a much easier rate. He feels 
safe and confident in his own integrity. Conscious of 
his own uprightness and worth, he feels no necessity 



102 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser. IX. 

either of carefully concealing or officiously displaying 
his character. He needs no expense of anxious labour 
to save or set olF appearances. He resembles the sun 
in the heavens, who shines without taking artificial pains 
to shine, and who employs no effort or disguise to con- 
vince the world that he is not a dark, but a lumin- 
ous body. 

The difference between the vicious and the virtuous 
man, in respect to internal peace, is inexpressible. The 
former, let his outward circumstances be ever so easy 
and flourishing, is like the troubled sea, which cannot 
rest. His mind is daily agitated by guilty, ungoverned, 
or discordant passions ; it is either swelled by pride, 
corroded by envy, torn by anger, inflamed by lust, or 
consumed by revenge. These and similar emotions, 
with their criminal and calamitous effects, not only im- 
mediately operate to banish self- enjoyment, and pro- 
duce inward tumult and agony, but they arm against 
the offender the bitter reproaches of his own reason and 
conscience. On the other hand, true virtue, by subdu- 
ing and harmonizing the inferior powers, gives the mind 
a serene enjoyment of itself, and of every object around 
it ; it inspires that noble firmness, that heart- felt joy, 
which arises from self approbation. 

3. The fear of the Lord confers a great advantage in 
point of reputation. However degenerate the world is, 
it cannot withhold its esteem and even veneration from 
the just and faithful man, whose whole conduct pro- 
claims, that he acts from principle, that he religiously 
abhors whatever is base and dishonest. It cannot re- 
fuse its respect to the man of exemplary sobriety, who 
triumphs over every vicious propensity, over every 
temptation to forbidden indulgence. Even those who 
are destitute of virtue, are awed by its majesty, and 
charmed by its beauty, when they see it strongly reflect- 



Ser. IX.] A WtSE MAN. 103 

ed from the conduct of its votaries. On the other hand, 
contempt and infamy are the general lot of the wicked. 
What objects of scorn and detestation ai'e the sons of 
falsehood and knavery, of intemperance and debauche- 
r}' ! Familiar intercourse with such persons is shunned, 
as reproachful and contaminating, by every man of de- 
cency and reputation ; even their occasional society is 
painful to delicate and virtuous minds. In short, few 
men are so insensible to the lustre of virtue, as not to 
covet the honour which attends it, and thousands pay 
homage to it, by assuming the garb, and aspiring to 
the credit of it, while their evil propensities hinder them 
from cordially espousing its interest. This reputation, 
which accompanies goodness, is at once an unspeakable 
pleasure and advantage to its possessor ; ^^•hile the 
shame, attendant on vice, is a most poignant evil. 

I am aware of a plausible objection to this assertion, 
founded on those words of St. Paul, " If in this life on- 
ly, we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most 
miserable." This passage has been understood by ma- 
ny, as a declaration, that the most virtuous Christians 
would be the most Avi'etched of mankind, if they had no 
hope of a better life, or if this hope should prove delur 
sive. But the connexion plainly limits this text to the 
first professors and ministers of Christianity, and partic- 
ularly to the apostles, whose sufferings for the gospel 
w^ere extraordinary and unceasing. It has therefore no 
reference to the subject in discussion. Besides, if 
these Christian teachers did not really believe and hope 
in a future life, they must have been the most impious 
and cruel impostors ; all their preaching and conduct 
must have been founded on a wicked and illusor}^ 
scheme of pretended doctrines and facts, and calculated 
to seduce thousands of their fellow men into poverty,, 
disgrace, and ruin in this world, in the chimerical hop^ 



104 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser. IX. 

of endless but imaginary felicity in the next ; conse- 
quently, instead of being the most virtuous, they were 
really the most abandoned of human beings, and their 
inward guilt and horror of conscience, added to their 
worldly sacrifices and suft'erings, might well render 
them of all men the most miserable. But how do6s 
this apply to those, who are truly honest in their relig- 
ious profession and practice? We may add, St. Paul 
is evidently describing those, whose belief and expres- 
sions are wholly confined to this life ; but our preced- 
ing argument has proceeded in part on the idea, that 
the virtuous man has some hope in a future existence, 
tliough this hope is supposed to be unfounded. If the 
belief of God and immortality were entirely discarded, 
w:e grant that genuine religious virtue, and the consola- 
tion produced by it, could not exist ; what we now call 
morality would become mere worldly policy, or the 
dictate of self interest ; yet even then it would be far bet- 
ter both for individual and social enjoyment to be visibly 
temperate, just and beneficent, than the reverse. 

Lastly, The man of religious virtue has the advantage 
of the opposite character in regard to temporal profit. 
For the esteem and confidence, which he possesses, are 
exceedingly favourable to his worldly business and suc- 
cess. Many branches of virtue naturally tend to compe- 
tence, and in some cases to afiluence ; such as temper- 
ance and industry^ frugality and moderation, justice and 
integrity. 

It appears then that the pious and virtuous man acts 
a wiser part tl>an the practical infidel, even on the most 
unfavourable hypothesis, or on supposition that religion 
is but a delusion ; for in ordinary cases he secures a 
much greater portion of present felicity. 

This part of our subject would be much strengthened, 
had we time to apply it to social m.an, or to compare the 



ser.ix.3 a wise man. 105 

opposite effects accruing to civil society from the practical 
influence of religious and moral, or of irreligious and de- 
moralizing principles. A view of these contrasted ef- 
fects would add an unspeakable preponderance to the 
side of religion, by sho\^ ing its immense advantages to 
communities as such, and of course to the several in- 
dividuals, who compose them. But waving so exten- 
sive a contemplation, to which your own experience, ob- 
servation, and reflection will readily do justice, I hast- 
en to the 

Second supposition stated above, which considers the 
principles of religion as doubtful^ that is, as possible, or 
at most probable, but not certain. On this supposition 
the man, who practically regards them, still more evi- 
dently acts the wiser part, for he chooses the safest side; 
he runs no risk, though his belief and consequent prac- 
tice should eventually prove eiToneous ; \\ hereas the un- 
believer runs the hazard of final perdition. The pious 
man gains eternal happiness, if natural and revealed re- 
ligion be true ; but the infidel gains nothing, though his 
opinion should finally prove correct. No wise man 
would needlessly expose himself to the bare possibility 
of losing a state of endless blessedness, and of incur- 
ring everlasting punishment. If therefore a future retri- 
bution be only possible, and certainly no infidel can 
demonstrate the contrary, they who deride or practically 
disregard it, they who live as if such a state were cer- 
tainly a chimera, are in the view of common sense, the 
most desperate fools and madmen. This charge of 
folly is greatly heightened, if we suppose that religion is 
attended with some degree of pr oh ability. Now the 
single fact, that all nations and ages have concurred in 
embracing its leading principles, aifords probable evi- 
dence of its truth ; since no falsehood of so interesting a 
nature ever was or can be imposed upon all nations and 



106 THE CHARCTER OF [Ser. IX. 

descriptions of men, so distant from each other in situa- 
tion, manners, hiterests, understandings, and disposi- 
tions ; especially since the most improved energies of the 
human mind, exerted on this subject, have never been 
able to detect the falsehood. A thousand other proba- 
bilities might be adduced on the side of religion. 

But supposing for the present that it is probably true, 
the wisdom of believing and obejdng it will readily and 
strongly appear. No man, in his temporal concerns, 
waits for intuitive or mathematical certainty to govern 
his faith and practice ; but he founds both on pre- 
ponderating evidence. Almost the whole business and 
commerce of mankind are necessarily and successfully j| 
conducted upon this principle, or upon such evidence 
as the nature of the case admits and demands. Now 
where our eternal interest is in question, a smaller prob- 
ability should determine us against risking or losing it, 
than would be necessary in a merely temporal concern ; 
for the more important any interest is, the more cautious 
should we be against putting it to hazard ; the 
least probability of danger in this case should be 
watchfully precluded. Suppose on the one side 
there is a possibility that future retribution may 
never take place; yet if this should be the fact, 
the religious man sustains only this inconvenience, 
that he did not give an unbounded licence to his sensual 
pleasures, but subjected them to the probable, though 
imaginary belief of immortality ; but even this self-de- 
nying regulation of appetite and passion gave him more 
ease, more present satisfaction and benefit, than unlimit- 
ed indulgence could possibly afford. But on the other 
side, it is highly probable, that there will be a future 
state ; and in this event how miserable will be the prac- 
tical unbeliever ! In the mean time, the apprehension of 
such an issue must greatly mar his present enjoyments. 



Ser. IX.] A WISE MAN. 107 

Let us now, in the 

Third place ^ proceed upon the supposition, that the 
great principles of religion are certainly true* We shall 
not at present support this hypothesis by formal proof. 
It is sufficient to observe, that the existence of an un- 
originated and eternal, a designing and all powerful 
cause, is demonstrably certain from visible nature* 
The moral attributes, government, and final retri- 
bution of this great Being, may be satisfactorily 
inferred from his natural perfections, and from the 
present phenomena of the moral world. The truth 
of revealed religion is also clearly proved by past 
and present appearances, by abundant historic evidence 
of the leading facts recorded in the gospel, and by the 
early and continued propagation, monuments, and 
beneficent effects of the Christian revelation. 

Now the religious man wisely believes and conducts 
according to this evidence. He perceives upon sober 
inquiry, that God and virtue, that the Bible and eterni- 
ty are names, which stand for the most solenm realities ^ 
he therefore habitually treats them as such ; he contin- 
ually lives to his Maker and Redeemer, to virtue and 
immortality. That such conduct is emphatically wise, 
will more fully appear, if we consider that it possesses 
all the characteristics of true wisdom. It implies a cor- 
rect discernment and choice of our supreme good. As 
religion, especially Christianity, informs us of our high- 
est interest and end, and of the only means to attain it; 
so the real Christian discerns and embraces that infinite 
good, which revelation sets before him. But irreligious 
men universally fail in this capital point ; they propose 
some finite, sensitive, or imaginary felicity, and mistake 
this airy phantom for true blessedness ; and though ev- 
ery experiment shows them that the object of their pur- 
suit is but a deceitful shadow, yet they court it afresh 



108 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser.TX, 

with redoubled ardour. Justly therefore does the Psalm- 
ist exclaim, " Have all the workers of iniquity no knowl- 
ledge?'' This question implies that habitual sinners, how- 
ever learned or apparendy wise, know nothing in a right 
manner, or to valuable purpose. They have no real- 
izing and practical knowledge either of God, or the 
Saviour, of sin Or duty, of this world or the next, or 
even of their own frame, condition, and prospect. 

Further, the religious man discerns and adopts the 
proper means for securing his chief good. He aims to 
please and enjoy God, by imitating and obeying him. 
He prepares to see Christ as he is^ by endeavouring to 
be like him. He seeks for a pure and holy heaven, by 
,cultivating a pure heart and a holy practice in the pres- 
l5Tit state. He seeks after the gospel salvation, in the 
gospel way, in the way of evangelical faith, repentance .|j 
and obedience. But every wicked man, who pretends ^' 
to believe in religion, neglects the only right path to his 
professed object. He ostensibly pursues and expects 
eternal happhiess, but what means does he use to attain 
it ? He seeks it either by a round of cold external wor- 
ship or morality, or by inward faith, reliance, or raptur- 
ous feelings ; while he omits, yea, secretly hates that 
self-denying, practical^ and universal holiness, without 
which both reason and Scripture declare he cannot see 
the Lord. What monstrous infatuation, to seek and 
hope for everlasting felicity without possessing or even 
labouring after those moral qualities, which must fit him 
to enjoy it, and which go to constitute the happiness 
itself! 

Lastly, the crowning property of wisdom is a iilgoroiis 
application of the means, which lead to our end. This 
forms the greatest line of difference between the sincere 
and nominal Christian ; the one diligently applies his 
knowledge to practice ; the other, with the same price 



Ser. IX.] A WISE MAN. 105 

in his hands to get ^\'isdom, is too thoughtless and indo- 
lent to improve it. In temporal affairs men easily and 
practically distinguish between a small and great, a mo- 
mentary and durable advantage, and readily resign the 
former to the latter ; but foolish sinners in their highest 
concerns reverse this rule of action ; they sacrifice an * 
invaluable and endless good to some trivial and tran- 
sient interest or pleasure. How careful is worldly wis- 
dom to observe and seize the fittest opportunities for pro- 
moting its object ! But how negligent are sinners of their 
peculiar advantages and seasons for gaimng the true 
riches ! How carelessly do they waste the flower of their 
hves ! How many sabbaths and sermons, how nlany 
natural gifts and providential wai'nings, how many tender, 
serious, and promising moments are trifled away! 
While common prudence urges men to get their earthly 
property secured by a firm and certain title ; how un- 
concerned are the wicked about the nature of their title 
to an incorruptible inheritance ! While the principle of 
self preservation is ever alive to temporal danger, and 
full of earnest aativity in guarding against it ; how slow 
are sinners to feel and avoid their constant danger of eter- 
nal perdition ! 

These observations sufficiently illustrate the folly of a 
sinful, and the wisdom of a religious life. 

Our subject, in review, shows us in a strong light the 
moral depravity of the human mind. The same natu- 
ral faculties and principles, which enable and dispose 
men to act wisely in their temporal aflfairs, would lead to 
an equally wise conduct in their eternal concerns, if they 
were not strongly perverted. The same reason and 
prudence, which make them provident and active for 
their bodily and secular welfare, would render them 
still more discreet and vigilant in securing their immor- 
tal happiness, if some awful infatuation had not seized 



110 THE CHARACTER OF [See. IX. 

their minds. What other reason can be assigned for the 
direct opposition between the arguments, feelings, and 
conduct of those, who despise or neglect religion, and 
the principles and behaviour of the same persons with 
respect to all other subjects ? We find that infidels and 
libertines will even glory in advancing such objections 
against religion, and such pleas for neglecting it, as even 
they would be ashamed to employ on any other tc^ic. 

We find too that thousands, who professedly believe 
in religion, indulge and even justify a practice so con- 
trary to their profession, as to discover the greatest mor- 
al stupidity and niadness. How shocking is it for rea- 
sonable beings, in their highest concerns, to profess and 
to act in such a manner, that their avowed principles and 
actions perpetually contradict and reproach each other! 
How absurd, for men to excuse their present inconsis- 
tent conduct by the purpose of future amendment? 
Does not this very purpose imply a present conviction 
of folly, and yet a resolution to continue in it ? Does it 
pot likewise imply a bold presumption on some future 
opportunity, disposition, and ability to repent ? Yet no 
man in his senses will pretend to be certain of either of 
these futurities. These and similar facts, which we dai. 
ly see and feel, cannot be accounted for without admit- 
ting the scripture doctrine of human depravity. Sound 
philosophy teaches, that no other cause is adequate t6 
guQh uniforni and dreadful effects. 

Again, with what an ill grace do irreligious men 
ridicule serious and exemplary Christians, as foolish 
and distracted visionaries ! If our text, and the general 
tenour of the Bible be true ; yea, if natural religion have 
^ny reality or even probability ; every habitual sinner, 
however sagacious or refined, is a fool ; and every pious 
man, however weak in other respects, in the noblest 
^ense is wise. The former, therefore, is a just object of 



ser.ix.] a wise man. Ill 

contempt, and the latter of veneration. Persons of tlic 
first class, instead of glorying in their own wisdom or 
liberality, and vilifying those, who shun their foolish and 
destructive paths, ought rather to despise and abhor 
themselves. Instead of reproaching religion, as making 
men whimsical or mad, they ought to revere it, as that 
which eminently exalts and perfects the human character. 
Instead of fearing to embrace it, lest it should contract 
their minds, or sink their spirits, they should eagerly re- 
pair to it, as the best source of rational improvement 
and comfort ; for happy is the man that findeth this wis- 
dom, and the man who getteth this understanding. 

Finally, Let good men, however poor and illiterate, 
afflicted or despised, be comforted and animated by the 
thought, that they have made a wise and happy choice, 
and that their wisdom will ere long be confessed and re- 
warded in the view of the assembled universe. In the 
mean time let such highly favoured souls pity, and la- 
bour to reform an infatuated world. Let them endeavour 
to bring their sinful neighbours, and especially their be- 
loved children and friends, to that knowledge and fear of 
the Lord, which is the perfection of wisdom. Let them 
earnestly pray and hope for that blessed day, when the 
doctrine and spirit of the gospel shall impart true wis- 
dom, virtue, and joy to the w^hole family of mankind. 



g)ermon x, 



On the Pleafures of Religion. 



Prov. XXIV. 13, 14. 

My son, eat thou honey, because it is good ; and the Hon* 
eycomb, which is sweet to thy taste : so shall the knowl- 
edge of wisdom he to thy soul, When^hou hast found 
it, then there shall be a retvard, and thy expectation 
shall not be cut off. 

HE main design of the Sacred Scriptures is to lead 
men to the knowledge, love, and practice of true piety 
and virtue, and thereby to advance them to the proper 
perfection and felicity of their nature. This is eminent- 
ly the scope of the book of Proverbs, and of the words 
just recited in particular ; in which the wise and inspir- 
ed Solomon most pathetically urges mankind, especial- 
ly the young, to the acquisition of wisdom, or true re- 
ligion, and enforces the exhortation by representing the ■ 
sweetness and pleasantness of it. This he beautifully 
illustrates and recommends by the simile of honey and 
the honeycomb, than which nothing was sweeter or 
more delightful to the taste ; and one of the principal 
excellencies of Canaan, that glory of all lands, was, that 
it flowed with milk and honey. By representing the 
pleasantness of religion, therefore, by this comparison, 
he intimates that the enjoyment of it will afford the high- 
est satisfaction and the most exquisite delight. 

The text presents this important observation, that 
true religion is Vv orthy of our earnest desire and pur- 
suit, not only on account of its future and endless re- 



SsR. X.] ON THE PLEASURES, &c. 113 

ward, but also for the sake of the pleasure and satisfac- 
tion, which immediately attend it. 

By true religion, in this discourse, we intend, not the 
religion of the superstitious Pharisee, the sour bigot, or 
the wild enthusiast ; but the rational, fervent, and practi- 
cal piety of the sincere Christian ; or such a just and 
impressive sense of the Deity, as suitably influences 
both the heart and the conduct ; as engages the subject 
to a cheerful and steady performance of the various du- 
ties, he owes to his Creator, to his Redeemer, to his fel- 
low-creatures, and to himself. 

Now it is easy to show that religion, in this rational 
and scriptural view of it, is indeed sweeter than honey, 
or the honeycomb ; or that it is an immediate source of 
the most pure and exalted pleasures. 

To pre-engage your attention to this proposition, let 
me observe, that there is no one artifice, by which the 
father of lies, the grand deceiver and destroyer of men, 
has more successfully promoted his cause^ than by 
painting religion in a gloomy and forbidding attitude, and 
hereby prej udicing mankind, especially the young, against 
this apprehended dreadful foe to human comfort and de- 
• light. And many of Satan's children have industriously 
laboured to strengthen this prejudice, by clothing relig- 
ion in the most disgusting and frightful dress ; by de- 
scribing it as a compound of vulgar superstition and 
priestly deception ; of needless scrapularity and monk- 
ish austerity ; while some of its honest but misjudging 
friends have unhappily contributed to the same preju- 
dice, by carrying into their religious system a rigid and 
morose, or a melancholy and desponding spirit. 

The public teachers of religion, tlierefore, cannot da 
it more important service, than by vindicating it from 
those false and injurious aspersions ; and holding it up 
in its native and attractive charms, as the soul of human 



114 ON THE PLEASURES [Ser. X. 

happiness. Let me then request the candid attention 
of all, and particularly of the youthful part 
OF THIS audience, whilc wc attempt to illustrate the 
sweetness of religion. 

In the first place ^ religion gives us the best enjoy- 
ment of our temporal blessings ; for it teaches, or in- 
cludes a right estimation, and the wisest improvement 
of them ; which is the directest way to extract and en- 
joy their sweetness. It subdues that immoderate esti- 
mation of temporal good, which forever hinders the 
true enjoyment of it ; which creates a feverish ardour, 
a tormenting impatience in pursuing it, a slavish anx- 
iety in possessing it, disappointment and loathing in 
the fruition, and vexatious uneasiness in the loss of it. 
Religious wisdom dictates a rational, calm, and temper- 
ate use of the bounties of Heaven. It enables us to en- 
joy them without satiety, and to 'possess them without 
anxiety ; to seek them without impatience, and to lose 
them without despair. It greatly enlarges the sphere, 
and improves the relish, of our common enjoyments ; 
for it keeps both body and mind in a right posture for 
them ; it elevates and crowns the pleasure, which they 
naturally afford, by bringing to the entertainment a 
sound, incorrupt mind, a thankful, contented, and cheer- 
ful heart ; a heart, which adores and enjoys God in all 
these streams of his beneficence. Thus it adds intellec 
tual and spiritual to earthly joys, and gives a pure, senti- 
mental fruition of the most common objects and enjoy- 
ments. 

What a rich flavour must this impart to all the bless- 
ings, vrith which we are loaded ; to the various sweets 
of health and ease, of food and raiment, of rest and se- 
curity ; to the satisfaction resulting from agreeable con- 
nexions, delicate friendship, peaceful habitations, pros- 
perous business ; to the pleasure, w^hich we take in be- 



SfeR. X.] OF RELIGION. 115 

holding the shining sun, the descending rain, the flow- 
ers of spring, the ripened stores of summer and au- 
tumn! How is the dehght of all these unspeakably 
heightened, when we see them all streaming down to 
us from the overflowing goodness of a generous, affec- 
tionate Friend, who regards us with wonderful kind- 
ness, and to whom our hearts are supremely attached ! 
What sweetness must this infuse into our daily pleas- 
ures and our nightly slumbers. *' Thou hast put 
gladness in my heait,'* says an ancient saint, " more, 
than in the time, when their corn and their wine increas- 
ed. I will both lay me down in peace and sleep ; for 
thou. Lord, only makest me to dwell in safety." 

In the second place, religion denies us no pleasure, 
but such as directly tends to sorrow. The gratifica- 
tions, which it prohibits, aie either very sordid and pol- 
luting, or ver}^ dangerous and destructive. What we 
commonly call unlawful pleasures, are many of them 
enjoyments in themselves innocent and useful, but pro- 
cured by unwarrantable means, or enjoyed in a wrong 
manner ; that is, either obtained by injustice, or abused 
by intemperance. But certainly neither injustice, nor 
intemperance has any real pleasure annexed to it. On 
the contrary, unless a man have a very unnatural tem- 
per of mind and body, injustice must be painful to the 
former as well, as intemperance to the latter. Those 
pleasures, then, which men seek, and fancy they enjoy, 
under the banner of vice, may be equally found, yea 
enjoyed with great advantage, under the standard and 
regulations of Christian virtue. And if religion forbids 
to her votaries drunkenness and uncleanness, falsehood 
and unrighteousness, envy and slander, malice and re- 
venge ; it is because these vices would deprive them of 
true pleasure, and subject them to constant pain, even 
w 



116 ON THE f>LEASU!lES [SteH. X. 

ill this world as well, as incapacitate them for happi- 
ness, and ripen them for misery in the next. 

In the third place, as religion forbids no real pleasure, 
so it brings no peculiar trouble. In other words, no 
trouble is the proper and genuine effect of religion. 

The love of God and our neighbour, which is a com- 
pend of human duty, far from being the natural parent 
of sorrow^; is the pleasantest disposition, of which the 
mind of man is capable. None will pretend that devo- 
tion toward God, or charity to men, tends to the injury of 
body, mind, or estate ; while sacrificing to w^orldly and 
fleshly idols has an unfavourable operation upon each. 
No man can pretend, that a genuine trust in Christ pro- 
duces such shameful and vexatious disappointments, as 
commonly flow from earthly and carnal dependencies ; 
or that Christian sobriety ever leads to diseases, diU- 
gence to poverty, humility to contention, or honesty to 
shame. 

It is granted, that repentance of sin, which is an im- 
portant branch of Christian duty, carries with it a de- 
gree of trouble and uneasiness. But this trouble is not 
the native fruit of duty, but of sin ; for had mankind 
continued in the perfect exercise of holiness, there 
would have been no occasion for repentance. Nor is this 
trouble peculiar to evangelical repentance ; for impenitent 
sinners have consciences, which frequently give them more 
exquisite anguish, than the deepest humiliation can pro- 
duce in a believing penitent. Faithless remorse was far 
more painful to Judas, than godly sorrow to Peter. Be- 
sides, there is a rational, a dignified pleasure in mourning 
for our unworthy treatment of so excellent a character, so 
generous a Friend, so kind a Father, as the blessed God. 
There is so much ingenuity and love, so much cheer- 
ing faith and hope in the divine mercy, in the exercises 
of gospel repentance, as render it on the whole equally 



Ser. X.] OF RELIGION. 117 

pleasant and salutary : and while the humble penitent is 
distressed with a sense of his own baseness, he is pro- 
portionably delighted with a view of the beauty and dig- 
nity of Jeliovah, and comforted with an assurance of his 
forgiving love. Let us suppose two sinners on the 
bed of death, or two condemned criminals going to the 
place of execution. The one exercises a filial, evan- 
gelical repentance, a repentance springing from love, 
and enlivened by gospel faith and hope. The other 
feels all the pangs of conscious guilt, and all the terrors 
of his approaching fate, without any cordial affec- 
tion to that Being, whom he has offended, to that law> 
which he has violated, and to that Saviour, who offers 
him forgiveness ; and without any cheering confidence 
in the divine mercy, or a future happy immortality. I 
ask, which of these two kinds of sorrow is the most 
comfortable and soothing ? Is not the gloomy, despair- 
ing sorrow of the last character a dreadful foretaste and 
beginning of damnation ? While the humble and pious 
repentance of the former is a sweet pledge of future for- 
giveness and blessedness. 

As to the duties of self-de?iial^nd mortification^ which 
Christianity requires, the pain attending these is ajways 
the genuine offspring of sin. Nor is this peculiar to the 
religious character. For the wicked man is often 
obliged to deny, yea, to suppress one corruption in or- 
der to giatify another; his lusts and passions are so op- 
posite and contradictory, as render his soul a Babel of 
confusion. But Christian mortification strikes at the 
rooi of this evil, and gradually restores the mind to a 
regular, tranquil, and happy state. 

With respect to suffering for righteousness^ sake^ to 
which religion may sometimes call us ; not to urge 
that such sufferings properly originate, not from the 
Christian spirit, but from an opposite source, and will 



X18 ON THE PLEASURES [Ser. X. 

be overruled for the good of persecuted saints, and the 
advancement of the Christian cause ; I will only ob- 
serve, that the faithful soldier of Christ takes a gene- 
rous delight in suifering for so glorious a Master ; and 
triumphs in the thought, that every reproach, every 
pang, which he endures for Him here, will be a pearl, 
an orient diamond in his everlasting crown ; and, in the 
mean time, that his benevolent Leader will afford hini 
succours and consolations, equal and far superior to his 
sufferings ; for these are but human, while the com- 
forts are divine ; these are but temporary, while the joy 
and glory are eternal. Which leads me to add, 

In the fourth place^ While religion brings no trouble, 
at least without an overbalance of delight, it introduces 
a new set of pleasures, peculiar to itself; pleasures far 
nobler, purer, and sweeter, than can arise from any oth- 
er source. As the soul is the proper seat of happiness, 
so the felicity of a rational spirit must be derived from 
spiritual and divine objects. Such objects religion pre- 
sents for our contemplation and enjoyment ; and at the 
same time disposes the mind for a right entertainment 
of them. 

In the first place, it rectifies and harmonizes the sev- 
eral" powers of the soul. The intellectual, moral, and 
inferior faculties of wicked men are in a vitiated, discor, 
dant state, which creates a wild uproar in their breasts. 
But when true piety descends into the soul, it rectifies 
these disorders ; it clarifies and brightens the intellect ; 
reduces and regulates the rebellious will and affections ; 
it serenes, it sweetens all the inward powers, and dif. 
fuses over them the very dawn of heaven. Pure love 
now springs up and reigns in the heart ; divine contem- 
plation takes ample and bright surveys ; gentle meek- 
ness enjoys a humble delight ; faith leans securely upon 
the Rock of Ages, and hope with longing eyes beholds 



( 



Ser. X.] OF RELIGION. HJ 

and anticipates the pleasant regions, the full joys of im- 
mortality. What sources of godlike pleasure are these. 
The soul now feels itself in a right, a healthy, and vigv 
orous state ; it can sensibly perceive the very image 
and life of God, in some measure, transfused through 
its whole constitution. This may seem a strong and 
bold expression ; but inspiration fully warrants it, when 
it describes good men as *' partakers of the divine na- 
ture," and ^' filled with all the fulness of God." What 
divine pleasure is wrapped up in the idea ! 

And, as the conscious possession of such a divine 
temper must be unspeakably pleasing, so must the ex- 
ercise of it in a series of good actions. It is as much 
the nature of holiness to be active, as of the sun to 
shine, of die flame to ascend, or a garden of pleasant 
spices to send forth a grateful perfume. Now acts of 
goodness must be delightful, so far at least, as a holy 
principle is the agent ; for such actions being exercises 
of a holy inclination or appetite, this appetite is grati- 
fied, and has a rich entertainment in the performance. 
Thus it is a noble pleasure to a benevolent heart to do 
good, and make others as happy as itself ; it is a pleasure 
to the compassionate soul to relieve the wretched, and 
supply the children of want; it is a pleasure to' the pi- 
ous and devout soul to do the will, and promote the 
glory of God, and carry on a sacred intercourse with 
Him by meditation, prayer, and praise, and an attend- 
ance on all the institutions of his worship. In short, 
pleasure waits on every step of a religious life ; every 
virtue, and every act of each virtue, produces an in- 
stantaneous satisfaction ; nay, the civil and common ac- 
tions of the good man, being influenced and consecrat- 
ed by religious principles, are attended with some holy 
delight. 



120 ON THE PLEASURES [Ser. X. 

This pleasure of doing well is an angelic satisfac- 
tion. The ministering spirits of God's court above 
fly with rapture to execute his holy and benevolent or- 
ders. It was the meat and drink of our Saviour him- 
self to do his Father's will, and finish his work. *' 1 
delight to do thy will, O my God," was his language 
at his first undertaking the mediatorial office. It is an 
infinite delight to the great Jehovah to do good ; that is, 
to act like himself. So good men find a degree of the 
same defight in the exercises of goodness. Thus wis- 
dom's " ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her 
paths are peace." 

Farther, to these pleasures of action, religion adds 
those of knowledge and contemplation. Many philo- 
sophic geniuses have delightfully spent years in con- 
templating merely natural truths ; in diving deep into 
the secrets of nature, in soaring aloft among the stars, 
and ranging the wide field of human science ; and when 
some new discoveries have opened to their minds, they 
seem to have been even ravished and transported. But 
human science is infinitely beneath divine wisdom. The 
Christian in contemplation rises to the Being of beings, 
to the great Original and Sum of truth, and surveys the 
perfections of nature's supreme Author and Director ; 
surveys the grandeur, power, holiness, goodness, and 
mercy of the Redeemer, who is the image of the invisi- 
ble God, and who has, in his person, doctrine, and 
work, as it were, brought down the Deity, and placed 
him before us, in a near, familiar, and most engaging 
light. How exalted the entertainment, which ftows 
from the view of such grand, interesting, salutary truths, 
as the Son of God hrs revealed ; truths, which pro- 
claim *' glory to God in the highest, and peace and good 
will to men ;" which hold up to the anxious, inquiring 



Ser. X.] OF RELIGION. 12^1 

mind, both the chief good of man, and the sure way to 
arrive at the enjoyment of it ! 

The true kno^^•ledge of these great objects is light 
and life to the soul; our Saviour himself calls it "life 
eternal." When the soul finds this, it obtains some- 
thing, in which it can securely and dehghtfully rest; 
something, which gi\-es peace to the conscience, and 
satisfaction to the heart, and which continued will make 
one happy forever. Oh, what a transporting surprise 
seizes the mind, when it first savingly beholds the light 
of evangelical truth ! It finds itself in a new and beauti- 
ful world ! What other subjects of contemplation can 
yield a pleasure like this ! Here the object known is not 
trivial, uncertain, foreign, or uninteresting to us ; but 
dignified, certain, infinitely interesting, and com- 
pletely satisfying. And, if the knowledge of wisdom 
was sweeter than honey and the honeycomb, under the 
dark dispensation of the Old Testament, how much 
brighter and sweeter must it be to good men under the 
full blaze of gospel light. 

And the pleasure of this contemplation will be height- 
ened in proportion to their evidence of special interest in 
the objects and blessings contemplated. It must be 
dreadful to the thinking mind, while surveying the 
works and blessings of nature and grace, to reflect, 
" The great Author of all these is not my God !" But 
what a blessed reflection to the pious soul, to say, with 
comfortable assurance, *' The mighty Lord of thp 
world, who kindled up the sun and stars, poured forth 
the sea, and balanced the earth, who holds this stupen- 
dous universe in the hollow of his hand, and who is 
rearing up a new world of grace upon the basis of liis 
own Son's death and resurrection ; this mighty and glo^ 
rious Lord is my Father, and all the treasures of his 
kingdom, both of nature, grace, and gloiy are mine." 



122 ON THE PLEASURES [Ses. X, 

It deserves a distinct mention, that it is a source of 
great pleasure to the pious Christian to behold the beau- 
ty, and enjo)' the smiles of Christ, the Mediator^ 
• Christ Jesus is a most wonderful, unparalleled per- 
son ; possessed at once of all the perfections of Deity, 
and all the engaging virtues of humanity ; infinitely 
more majestic than the angels, and yet the meek- 
est and most humble man, that ever appeared ; he is 
higher tlian our conceptions can reach, and yet has 
stooped beneath the grave, has stooped to receive into 
his embraces the meanest and worst of mankind. His 
person and qualities, his instructions and works, are all 
wonders, and an inexhaustible source of admiring, rap- 
turous entertainment to the contemplative Christian. 
This mysterious, glorious persoii is the believer's 
friend ; and what pleasure must arise from the united 
discoveries of his glories and his love I 

To these pleasures of action and contemplation, the 
godly man can join those of reflection, and hereby en- 
joys the past as well, as the present. Though the time 
past is irrecoverably lost, considered as a part of dura- 
tion ; yet in a moral view it is not lost to the man, who 
has filled it up with offices of piety and benevolence. 

The past days and }^ears of the slothful and irrelig. 
ious, as one observes, are worse than lost ; for they have 
no fruit from them, and yet must account for them to 
their final Judge. Vice, which allured them with her 
deceitful charms, as she approached in a temptation, 
has quite another appearance, when viewed behind, and s 
frights them with her gliastly train. The guilty pleas- 
ures, to which they sacrificed their most valuable inter- 
ests and hopes, turn to gall and wormwood in the 
remembrance. 

If there were any such art, as that of forgetfulness, 
the sinner many times would gladly learn it ^ but be< 



Ser. X.] of religion. 123 

cause he cannot so easily blot things out of his memor)' ; 
he therefore endeavours to stifle his conscience, which 
he dreads as a mortal foe to his peace. But the pious 
man has no reason to regard conscience, as his enemy ; 
for it encourages him to continue in ^^ ell doing, by giv- 
ing him a heartfelt reward for his past works of faith 
and love. Conscience anticipates the sentence of the 
last day, " Well done, good and faithful servant." In 
short, as reflection is one of the distinguishing faculties 
of man, so it may be rendered a source both of very 
great profit and pleasure. It is so to the diligent and 
fruitful Christian. '*His yesterdays look backward 
with a smile." He has a pleasure in reflection, with 
which none of the pleasures of sin can compare ; a plea- 
sure, which he can repeat, when he will ; and the more 
valuable, in that while it springs from time past, it runs 
on into the future ; for, 

I must add, religion gives its votaries the pleasures of 
hope ; a hope, whose object and foundation are most ex- 
cellent and stable, for it has for its basis the immutable 
promises of God ; and its object is no less, than eternal 
life in the full fruition of his infinite beauty and love. 

Hope is the great enlivener of the world ; the grand 
spring both of human activity and felicity. What then 
must be its eflicacy, when it terminates on an infinite, 
everlasting good ; when it prelibates the substantial, 
elevated glories of immortality ! What a tenfold value 
and sweetness does this hope impart to the Christian's 
present temporal and spiritual enjoyments! What 
^vigour and fortitude must it inspire under the prospect 
^or pressure of evils ! 

Finally, as religion heightens the pleasures and soothes 
the distresses of life, so it disarms the terrors, and sof. 
tens the agonies of death. There is something di^ead- 



124 ON THE PLEASURES [SfeR. X. 

ful in death, in the view both of nature and of con- 
science. But true religion, founded on Christian prin- 
ciples, inspires such sentiments and habits, such reflec- 
tions and prospects, as give peace and fortitude to the 
mind in the view and actual encounter of this last enemy. 
It begets such a firm confidence in the mercy of God, 
such a sweei; assurance of his love, such a meek submis- 
sion to his will, such a holy contempt of this world, and 
such a relish and hope of the heavenly felicity, as ena- 
ble good men to meet death with steady composure, 
and sometimes with elevated, triumpliant joy. 

IMPROVEMENT. 

How groundless and pernicious is the idea of those, 
who view religion as an unpleasant, or melancholy thing! 
What enemies to mankind as well, as to themselves, 
are those, who fight against the Christian system ; a sys- 
tem, which gives to religion its brightest, fairest form, 
and which equally befriends our present and our future 
felicity f Its very restrictions and duties as well, as its en- 
couragements and benefits, are all benevolently adapted 
to our immediate ad\^ntage and comfort. Those, there- 
fore, who labour to subvert the Christian faith, or to 
weaken its influence, are cruelly endeavouring to rob us 
of our best friend, the only prop and solace of our 
existence \ 

Let us inquire whether we are possessed of religious 
wisdom, whether we have tasted the sweets of this di- 
vine food. If we have, religion is to us a source of real 
pleasure : even now we prize it abo^'e all other dainties ; 
we hunger and thirst after more ; we are travelling iiv 
wisdom ^s ways with growing activity and delight ; and 
we are using our influence in our social spheres to bring 
others to share with us in the divine entertainment. 

Sinners are left without any reasonable objection 



StiR. X.} OF RELIGION. 125 

against religion. Few, I hope in a land of light, ^vill 
question, whether the state of the godly in a future 
Morld is better than that of the wicked. Yet many 
doubtless are prejudiced against it, on account of the 
present difficulties which attend it. But such prejudices 
are entirely groundless. For the ^\'ise man, and by him 
the all-wise God, intimate, that the pleasure of religion, 
even now, is like eating honey and the honeycomb. If 
then you refuse the ways of religion, under the idea of 
their being unpleasant aixl toilsome, you give infinite 
wisdom ^id truth the lie. If you say or think, that the 
paths of holiness are full of gloomy melancholy, ^vhich 
^\ ill sink and deaden your spirits, 3"ou impeach the divine 
veracity, and you conti-adict and offend the generation of 
God's children. Will you object, that religion will be 
attended with shame ? What ! are you ashamed to eat 
the honey and tlie honeycomb, the repast of angels, the 
bread of heaven, because you may be ridiculed by some 
stupid or distempered creatures, who have no relish for 
such dainties ? Will you despise wisdom, which makes 
the face to shine, merely because fools hate knowledge ? 
Or can you object, since wisdom is so excellent, against 
seeking it soon ? 

How very great will be the final rew^ard and happiness 
of the godly ! If the pleasures of religion are so sweet, 
even in this state of imperfection and trial, m hat ^vill 
they be in the state of perfection and retribution ! In 
heaven the bhss of good men will be infinite, most ex- 
cellent in kind, and boundless in duration. How litde 
reason have the righteous, then, to envy the prosperity 
of the wicked ; or to repine under affliction, or to in- 
dulge an uneasy, disconsolate, or unthankful temper ! 

Let me close with an affectionate address. 

Let me recommend this wisdom from above to you, 
my fathers, who are grey with years, and bending to the 



% 126 GN THE PLEASURES , [Ser. X. 

tomb. Your relish for the delights of sense, for the ac- 
tive scenes and gay amusements of life is greatly im- 
paired and almost at an end. Oh, fly to the nobler plea- 
sures and hopes of religion, as the only substitute for 
these perishing j oy s . Make a seasonable retreat from the 
cares and gratifications of the world ; let your last days 
be chiefly devoted to religious improvement, to a grow- 
ing preparation for heaven ; and be careful to leave your 
aged, dying advice to your children and the rising age, 
in favour of the sweetness and. excellence of religion : 
*' My son, eat thou honey, because it is good ; and the 
honeycomb, which is sweet to thy taste ; so shall the 
knowledge of wisdom be to thy soul : When thou hast 
found it, then shall there be a reward, and thy expecta- 
tion shall not be cut off"," 

Let me next remind you, my brethren, who are in the 
meridian of life, that as yours is the very age of manly 
wisdom, it becomes you to shew your superior judg- 
ment by obeying the counsel of Solomon in the text. 
Remember, among all your busy cares and pursuits, 
that '^ the merchandise of wisdom is better than the 
merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine 
gold." If you acquire it, it will draw down the divine 
benediction on your worldly pursuits, and give a tenfold 
value to your other gains arid enjoyments. But if you 
neglect it, your greatest worldly ac<5uisitions will leave 
you destitute of true satisfaction in this life, and give a 
keen edge to your poverty and misery in the next. 

As to you, children and youth, since every pulse, every 
sense calls loud for pleasure, let me entreat you to seek it 
in early religion. Now, my young friends, is the seed 
time of life ; if you now sow to the spirit, you shall reap a 
proportional harvest, either in a life of solid, serene satis- 
faction here, or at least, in rivers of immortal pleasures 
hereafter. Religion, far from diminishing, will improVid 



Ser. X,] OF RELIGION. 127 

all the charms and innocent delights of your sprightly 
age. 

Finally, Let those ^vho are destitute of this wisdom, 
earnestly seek it. " If any man lack wisdom, let him 
ask it of God, that giveth to all men liberally and up- 
braideth not ; and it shall be given him. Yea, if thou 
criest after knowledge, andliftestup thy voice for under- 
standing ; if thou seekest her as silver, and searchest 
for her as for hidden treasures ; then shalt thou under- 
stand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of 
God." And let those, who have it, feel and exhibit 
the pleasures of it, manifest a noble contempt of sensual 
and vicious delights, a cheerful resignation, when strip- 
ped of earthly comforts ; and look, and long, and ripen 
for that world, where their graces and joys shall be ma- 
ture and perfect. 



©ermon XL 



The Want of a practical Regard to religious 
Truth, the Cause of dangerous specula- 
tive Errors. 



2 Tkessalonians ii. 10, 11, and 12. 

Because they recehednot the love of the truths that th^y 
might be sanded; far this cause God shall send them 
strong dehisioUy that they should believe a lie ; that they 
all might be damned ^ %vho believed not the truths but 
had pleasure in unrighteousness. 

HE apostle, in this chapter, predicts a grand aposta- 
&y in the Christian church ; which, from small begin- 
nings, should grow up to a monstrous height, so as to 
form an unparalleled system of rehgious tyranny, fraud, 
and corruption. 

The description given of this apostate antichristian 
power, of its rise, its rule, its subjects, and its fall, so 
exactly and exclusively agree to the papal usurpation 
or the bishop of Rome, that little reasonable doubt can 
remain, that ?A?> power is '' the man of sin," the " son of 
perdition,'* whom the spirit of prophesy here character- 
izes and devotes to destruction. The text describes 
the persons, who voluntarily submit to this corrupt pow- 
er, and shall perish with it. They are such, as never 
cordially love the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteous- 
ness; and hence were easily seduced from those sound 
doctrines, which they always secretly disliked, into such 
false principles as suited their depraved inclinations and 
practice. Hence God, by a righteous judicial act, giv^es 
them up to delusion and mckedness, and thus seals their 
endless destruction. 



\ 



SrR.XI.] THE CAUSE OF DANGEROUS ERRORS. 129 

Though the words before us primarily refer to tlie 
willing subjects of antichrist, they will fairly admit of a 
much larger application, and may be reduced to the fol- 
lowing genei-al proposition ; viz. that the want of a 
sincere practical regard to religious truth has both a nat- 
ural and moral tendency to lead men into the most dan- 
gerous speculative errors. 

The great sin, for which the persons in the text are 
so severely condemned, is designated by their not re- 
ceiving the love of the truth. This designation applies, 
in a greater or less degree, to all, who profess or enjoy 
the Christian religion, but whose hearts are not re- 
conciled to its pure, self denying doctrines and 
laws. Their understandings, perhaps, are constrain- 
ed by evidence to admit these doctrines, as true ; but 
their wills and affections rise up against them, as severe, 
as inimical to their favourite pursuits and gratifications. 
Their haughty and sensual, their sordid or revengeful 
spirits disrelish and spurn a system of religion and mor- 
als, so holy and humble, so generous and forgiving, so 
meek and peaceable, as that of the gospel ; a system, 
which not only forbids and seeks to exterminate their 
dearest lusts, but threatens all the votaries of these idols 
with everlasting punishment. As the thief or midnight 
assassin abhors the light of day, not because light is in 
itself odious to him, but because he views it as menac- 
ing him with pubhc detection and ignominious punish- 
ment; so the sinner hates the light of gospel truth, 
because it exposes, and affixes disgrace and ruin to per- 
sons of his dark, iniquitous character. His enmity to 
religious truth is therefore rather consequential, than di- 
rect ; that is, he opposes it not as truth, but as a mortal 
foe to his comfort and security in a sinful course. 
There is such a natural correspondence between the 
human understanding and truth, that the mmd of man 



130 ON THE CAUSE [Ser.XL 

cannot reject truth, or embrace falsehood as sue he 
When therefore the text represents wicked men, as not 
receiving the truth, and as beUeving a he ; the meaning 
is, that the opposition of their wills and practice to the 
pure maxims of divine truth induces such disorder and 
blindness upon their understandings, that they come to 
view religious objects in an inverted shape ; they view 
moral and evangelical truth under the odious garb, 
which belongs to falsehood, and a lie under the allur- 
ing aspect, which is proper to truth. Thus the infidel- 
ity of their hearts and lives at length gains over their 
judgment to its side, and produces a harmony between 
their inclinations and principles; which brings us to 
point out more distincdy how the want of a practical 
love to the truth naturally leads to a speculative rejec- 
tion of it. 

In the first place, it draws away the understanding 
fi'om a close attention to it, and thus hinders it from 
perceiving its evidence, certainty, and importance. 
Deep, reiterated, and earnest inquiry after religious 
truth is necessary to a clear and unwavering reception 
of it. But those, who cherish corrupt aifections, which 
are averse to the purity of divine truth, will, by natural 
consequence, turn away their thoughts from an object 
so unpleasing, to some more agreeable topic. They 
will not suffer their minds to dwell upon the evidence 
or reality of these things, which they heartily wish were 
neither evident nor real. And when they have thus 
expelled these unwelcome ideas, the contrary and more 
pleasing notions find an easy admittance into their nak- 
ed, unguarded understandings. 

Secondly. A heart opposed to strict religion fills the 
mind with prejudice and partiality in all its inquiries 
and reasonings upon it. A man of this description has 
really prejudged the cause ; has previously determined 



Ser. XL] DANGEROUS ERRORS. 131 

to find the Christian doctrine to be either false or per- 
nicious, or at best a needless and contemptible system. 
The influence of corrupt prejudice to pervert and dark- 
en the mental eye is beautifully illustrated by our Sa- 
viour, vi^hen he says, '* If thine eye be single,' thy whole 
body shall be full of light," that is, nothing extraneous 
must cleave to the eye in the act of seeing ; it must be 
single, that is, pure, simple, unmixed, be left entirely to 
itself and its object; then thy whole body will be full of 
light. But if the eye be obstructed either by some cov- 
ering, mote, disease, or injurious accident, the light is 
either shut out or obscured, and the object beheld in a 
very partial and erroneous manner. All this is easily 
applied to intellectual vision. Every act of sin, 'espec- 
ially the habitual love and practice of it, is a mote or 
disease in the eye of the mind. For instance, sensual 
affections and indulgences send up, if I may so speak,, 
such gross, defiling vapours from the lower regions of 
the soul into the upper, as effectually obstruct a clear, 
impartial view of spiritual truth. Agreeably, an inspir- 
ed prophet tells us, that whoredom and wine take away 
the heart ; that is, they weaken and gradually destroy 
the intellectual and moral powers. 

Covetous affections and pursuits have likewise a very 
blinding influence on the understanding ; insomuch 
that the most avaricious miser cannot see, cannot admit 
the conviction that he is covetous; the sordid vice, 
which absorbs and devours him, and which strikes eve- 
ry spectator with contempt and abhorrence, appears to 
himself a necessary, useful, and perhaps virtuous habit ; 
and every measure, which coincides^^vith his mercenary 
view^s, however fraudulent or oppressive, is beheld by 
him in a favourable light. In a w^ord, there is perhaps 
no vicious passion, which confounds and infatuates the 
reasoning and judging faculty even of the greatest, 

Y 



132 THE CAUSE OF [Ser. XI. 

and in other respects the best minds, so completely as 
this. Accordingly, we read that a gift or a bribe blind- 
eth the eyes of the wise, and perverteth the words of 
^ the righteous ; yea, that a gift destroyeth the heart. 

Pride and ambition have likewise a deceptive influ- 
ence upon the human understanding. As covetousness 
stupifies the mind by sinking it too low, so ambition 
dazzles it by raising it above itself. 

I might enumerate many other corrupt affections and 
habits ; but the three just mentioned seem to be the 
most comprehensive and powerful, as corresponding to 
those three grand objects of .the depraved heart, plea- 
sure, profit, and honour, which form a mighty threefold 
cord, by which the tempter draws the world along aftc? 
him ; draws it in a manner so rapid and fascinating, as 
in some degree subverts the very understandings of his 
votaries ; so as to make them believe a lie, believe that 
they may, yea, ought to worship these idols as their 
gods, embrace and pursue them as their chief good, 
and sacrifice every thing to the enjoymient of them. No 
wonder then that the devotees of these idols disrelish, 
and gradually bring themselves to reject the pure, self- 
denying, and humbling truths of the gospel, which for- 
bid and condemn their favourite pursuits and enjoy- 
ments, and substitute some flattering scheme of false- 
hood in their place. 

As a vicious heart and life are thus a natural and 
fruitful source of speculative error ; so they have a mor- 
al tendency to the same pernicious effect ; in other 
words, they often provoke God to give men up to fatal 
delusions. This is expressly asserted in the text, re- 
specting a particular description of sinners. But here 
a formidable objection lies in our way. It is asked, 
how God, who is light and truth in the abstract, can 
send darkness or delusion into the minds of his crea- 



SiER. XL] DANGEROUS ERRORS. 133 

tures ; how an effect, so impure and malignant, can pro- 
ceed front a cause, which is peifectly holy and good? 
For the solution of this difficulty, I might introduce the 
general opinion of metaphysical writers respecting the 
nature of moral evil, as radically consisting in the priva- 
tion of good. On this principle we may easily explain 
in what sense God may be said to send delusion into the 
minds of men, consistently with his moral perfections. 

He may do it, in the first place, by withdrawing from 
their understandings and hearts his enlightening and 
regulating influence. Both Scripture and reason prove, 
that the human soul, especially in its present weak and 
corrupted state, is constantly dependent on the concur- ^ 
ring assistance of the first cause for the due exercise, 
and e^^en the continued existence of its various powers. 
This being granted, how natural, how congruous to 
reason is it to suppose, that God, as a just punishment 
of the sinner's criminal neglect or perversion of his own 
intellectual and moral powers, withdraws from these 
faculties his gracious assistance ; withholds that light 
from his understanding, and those restraints from his 
passions and will, which he has ungratefully resisted 
and forfeited, but without which he will immediately 
plunge still deeper into the darkness of error and guilt. 
It is easy to see that such a divine withdrawment is per- 
fectly righteous and holy on God's part ; for it is only 
leaving the sinner to his own chosen blindness and fol- 
ly. It is equally easy to see that the departure of God 
from this offending creature will be certainly followed 
with increasing delusion as well, as wickedness on the part 
of the sinner ! for his imderstanding is liereby left open and 
prepared for the greatest errors ; while the evil affections 
and prejudices of his heart are lefl to operate upon his 
perception and judgment with united, unrestrained force. 

Further, God may be said to send men delusions, 
when he providentially orders out to them such circum- 



134 THE CAUSE OF [Ser.XI. 

stances, or presents to them such objects, as he knows 
will eventually, though not efficiently or necessarily, 
lead them^ into dangerous error. The Bible is remark- 
able for directly ascribing to God every thing, which 
takes place in the course of his providence, even such 
events as imply or result from the greatest freedom and 
wickedness on the part of the immediate actors or sub- 
jects. Accordingly, when men, who have long practi- 
cally opposed the truth, are providentially cast among 
such books, companions, or teachers, as are exactly 
fitted to seduce persons of their loose inclinations and 
morals from sti^ict religious principles into flattering and 
destructive errors, and when their seduction is in fact 
the consequence of such a combination of circumstan- 
ces ; both scripture and true philosophy authorise us to 
say, that God has sent strong delusion, and that herein 
he has acted with untainted purity and exemplar}^ jus- 
tice, subjecting offenders to a punishment suited to their 
previous character, without violating their liberty or 
participating in their criminality. In a manner similar 
to this, are we to understand the account given in Scrip- 
ture, of God's putting a lying spirit in the mouth of 
Ahab's prophets. The meaning of that figurative repre- 
sentation is, that when Ahab, by his idolatry and wick- 
edness, had made himself fully ripe for destruction, God 
permitted, and in this way employed the lying spirit, 
which actuated the prophets of Baal to deceive him to 
his ruin. In like manner when Pharaoh had resolutely 
hardened his own heart, against the express, repeated 
command of Jehovah, enforced by evident miracles; 
God righteously permitted him to be confirmed in his 
delusion by the lying wonders of the magician as well, 
as left him to grow more obstinate in sin by means of 
those very dispensations, which ought to have been im- 
proved to an opposite purpose. Agreeably, one method 



# 

Ser. XL] DANGEROUS ERRORS. I35 

in which God has sent delusion upon the subjects of 
antichrist, has been by permitting that apostate power to 
deceive its votaries by a false pretence and a specious im- 
itation of miracles ; Mhich, have been no better than the 
impudent boast and juggling tricks of impostors, or at 
jnost the operations of Satan, judicially permitted by 
Heaven, to strengthen the delusion of those, who had 
previously and wickedly subjected their understandings 
and conduct to that system of falsehood and abomina- 
tion. Accordingly, in the verse preceding the text, the 
man of sin is described as appearing imth all pom)er, and 
signSy and lying wonders, and %mth all deceheableness of 
unrighteousness. By providentially ordering, or permit- 
ting these wicked artifices to be successfully practised 
upon those, who were predisposed to yield to their influ- 
ence, God righteously gave them up to fatal delusion. 

This judicial procedure of divine providence is here 
mentioned as a very dreadful dispensation. It will ap- 
pear to be so, if we consider that it not only immediately 
affects the soul, the vital part of man, the centre of his 
happiness or miser}^, but it strikes at this nobler part in 
its most distinguishing perfection, by subjecting its 
guiding faculty to delusion and blindness. Hereby the 
main office of the understanding and conscience is de- 
stroyed. The intellectual and judging faculty becomes 
a blind leader of the blind. The very light tliat is in us 
becomes darkness ! How gi*eat then must that darkness 
be ! A person in this situation is constantly exposed to 
stumble, yea, to fall into the foulest ditch, into die most 
defiling and destructive enormities, and in the end, to fall 
into the pit of endless perdition. This is the final issue 
of error, sinfully cherished and retained. God shall 
send them delusion, that they all might be damned, ^^ ho 
believed not the truth. The native and ultimate tenden- 
cy of every religious error is dangerous tg the health 



136 THE CAUSE OF [Ser.XI. 

and life of the soul, and will actually produce fatal effects, 
if suffered to exert and diffuse itself unchecked. Some 
errors are immediately destructive. Great mistakes in 
speculation, indeed, may be so counteracted in their in- 
fluence by strong habits and dispositions of goodness, as 
not to destroy the virtue and final happiness of their sub- 
jects ; while smaller errors, embraced by light or vicious 
minds, are in many instances eventually fatal, as they 
insensibly lead on to greater, and thus betray their soul 
into an Inextricable labyrinth of delusion, irregularity 
and mischief ; the natural termination of w hich is irre- 
trievable, everlasting ruin. In reviewing our subject,^ 
we are led to this important inference, that the only sure 
method to establish our faith in the truths of religion, 
is to cherish a cordial love and obedience to them. W^ 
have seen that the ^vant of this practical regard to the 
ti'uth is the main source of speculative unbelief and de- 
lusion. Would we then continue stedfast in the infinite- 
ly momentous truths of Christianity, in this giddy, scep- 
tical, and licentious age ? Let pur affections and practice 
embrace and steadily adhere to these divine principles : 
let us supremely love and delight in them on account of 
their transcendent purity, let us cheerfully and steadily 
regulate our conduct by them. Let us rejoice with our 
whole hearts, that there is such a salvation, and such 
terms prescribed for the enjoyment of it, as the Bible 
reveals. If our affections and practice thus cleave to 
the truth, our understanding and moral sense will natur- . 
ally see more and more of its beauty, will be more can- 
did, diligent, and successful in their inquiries after it, and 
thus be led into more comprehensive views, and a more 
full, stedfast, and impressive belief of it. God has like- 
wise promised and actually affords peculiar light and di- 
rection to such as sincerely love and practise religious 
tiiith. In a w^ord,. the specious arguments of subtle ob^ 



ser.xi.] dangerous errors. 137 

jectors against natural or revealed religion derive their 
greatest charm and seductive influence upon mankind, 
from their own corruptions, from their secret willing- 
ness to be deceived. A heart and life, therefore, truly 
pious and good, would be the shortest and most satisfac- 
tory method of answering all these objections; this 
would give us an experimental, and delightful, and im- 
moveable assurance of the truth and excellence of relig- 
ion. Further, our subject enables us to account, in an 
easy and satisfying manner, for the principal errors, both 
in opinion and practice, which have prevailed in the 
world. For example, we plainly perceive the main 
root of modern infidelity and atheism. The leading 
doctrines of natural and revealed religion are so necessa- 
ry and suitable, so beneficial and comforting to a crea- 
ture, so framed, circumstanced, and related as man, 
that every good and considerate mind must at least wish 
to find them true, and accordingly must carefully attend 
and readily yield to the abundant evidence by which 
they are confirmed. The disbelief of these principles, 
therefore, especially in enlightened protestant countries, 
must in general be traced to a depraved heart or profli- 
gate life, which leads them first to dread and hate, and 
at length to renounce those truths, which stand in the 
way of their favourite propensities. The same account 
may be given of the errors of Poper}^ which have so 
long and so extensively prevailed in the world, and to 
which our text immediately refers. It seems very 
strange at first view, that creatures, enlightened at once 
by reason and revelation, should be capable of believing 
such an assemblage of absurdities and lies, as the Rom- 
ish religion contains. But when we consider how ex- 
actly that system falls in with the corrupt inclinations o£ 
the human heart ; how admirably it gratifies the a\^arice 
and ambition of their priests, especially in higher orders, 



138 THE CAUSE OF [Ser. XL 

by giving them the command both of the purses and con- 
sciences of the people ; and how entirely it suits and flat- 
ters the licentious appetites and passions of mankind at 
large, by allowing them every vicious indulgence here, 
and yet assuring them, on very easy conditions, of final 
absolution and blessedness, we may readily see the rea- 
son why so great a part of the worlds especially in the 
dark ages, were induced to believe and hold fast so 
pleasing a delusion. At the same time we doubt not 
that many individuals in popish countries, of the best 
hearts and morals, have by the force of education and 
example, and the want of better means of information, 
been led to believe and to sacredly observe the peculiar- 
ities of that apostate church. We might easily account, 
in a similar manner, for the prevalence^ of certain dan- 
gerous errors in the Protestant world. For instance, 
how gratifying must it be to those, who are devoted to 
vicious pleasures and pursuits, and who have long prac- 
tically defied the threatenings of future punishment, how 
gratifying to such persons to hear that these threatenings 
will never be executed, that they have already spent 
their force upon Jesus Christ, as the head and surety 
of mankind ; in consequence of which the most aban- 
doned sinners are placed on as fair ground, and have the 
same unconditional promise of everlasting life, with the 
most exemplary saints. How pleasing to proud and 
carnal hypocrites is the doctrine, which teaches them to 
regard certain transient internal feelings, joined with an 
orthodox belief, as a sure evidence of saving faith, con- 
version, and fellowship with God ; while they are led to 
view a life of strict virtue and holiness as a comparative- 
ly low and needless attainment ? How pleasing also to 
tiie depraved heart is the opposite idea, that exterior ci- 
vility, morality, or devotion, without a corresponding 
sanctified temper of mind, will recommend us to the 



Ser. XL] THE CAUSE OF DANGEROUS ERRORS. 139 

final acceptance of Heaven ! These and similar schemes 
of religious falsehood naturally engage the approbation 
and warm attachment of tliose, w ho hate strict practical 
godliness, because they lend effectual aid to that great 
effort of our degenerate nature, which aims to reconcile 
conscience and lust, or the hope of future happiness 
with the present indulgence of sin. On the whole, it 
would be easy to show, if time permitted, that all the 
fashionable errors of the present day are the natural 
growdi as well, as just punishment of its licentious taste 
and manners. Let us then be humble under a sense of 
those sottish and dreadful delusions, at \^^hich human na- 
ture is capable of arriving ; let us biess that divine good- 
ness, which has preserved us so far from these evils ; 
let us constantly watch and pray against them, let us 
beware of that giddy spirit, those itching ears, that ex- 
treme liberality and freedom of inquiry, which have 
ensnared so many ; let us prize and search the Scrip- 
ture, receive its truths into an honest, unbiassed heart, 
and practise them in a holy, obedient life ; this only will 
keep us stedfast to the end. 



©etmon xii. 



Naaman the Leper. 



2 Kings v. 10—14. 

A?id Elisha sent a messenger imto him^ saying, Go and 
wash in Jordan se'uen times, and thy flesh shall come 
again to thee, and thou shah be clean. But Naaman 
was %vroth, and went away, and said. Behold, I 
thought, he will surely come out to me, and stand, and 
call on the name of the Lord his God, and strike his 
handover the place, and recover the leper. Are nat 
Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than 
all the waters of Israel ? May I not wash in them and 
be clean ? So he turned and went avoay in a rage. And 
his servant came near, and spake unto him, and said, 
My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great 
thing, wouldest thou not have done it ? How much rather 
then, when he saith unto thee, wash and be clean ? Then 
went he down and dipped himself seven ti7nes in Jor- 
dan, according to the saying of the man of God; and 
his flesh came again like the flesh of a little child, 
and he was clean. 



% 



ji HIS chapter, with a beautiful simphcity peculiar to 
the sacred writings, relates the story of Naaman the leper. 
As this K\an was a favourite of the king of Syria, and 
possessed high rank and authority under him ; his master 
hearing that there was a prophet in the land of Israel, 
by whom leprosies were cured, sent Naaman thither to 
be healed. Accordingly this great General having pre- 
sented himself in his chariot at .the door of Elisha'^ 
house, the prophet sent out a messenger to him, direct* 



Sbr. XII] NAAMAN THE LEPER. 141 

ing him to wash seven times in Jordan, and assuring him 
in this wa.y of immediate recovery ! But this mode of 
proceeding' not suiting* the pride and preconcei\'ed no- 
tions of Naaman, he spurne d the message, and rode 
away from the house in great indignation. But the sejr- 
i'ants, ^^•ho attended him, more wise in this instance than 
their master, respectfully expostulated \Aith him on the 
impropriety of rejecting so simple and easy a prescrip- 
tion. Naaman, not possessing that foolish haughtiness, 
whfeh disdains the lA'holesome advice of an inferior, was 
persuaded to follow the prophet's directions. The con- 
sequence ^vas his perfect recovery. 

The proud spirit and reasonings, which at first led 
this man to reject the message of Elisha, influence ma- 
ny at this day to oppose religion, especially the doctrines 
and prescriptions of the gospel ; while his ultimate obe- 
dience to the prophet and its salutary effect fitly repre- 
sent the wisdom and happiness of those, who, in spite of 
their conceited, but perverted reason, and preconceived 
prejudices, submit to the merciful directions of Chris- 
tianity, 

If we trace the spirit and reasonings of modern athe- 
ists and infidels, we find them strikingly correspondent 
with those of Naaman in the text. What leads many 
proud philosophists to reject the common belief of a 
God, or of a great first cause, possessing infinite wis- 
dom and goodness ? It is this ; they first deterrriine in 
their own minds what plan of conduct ought to be pursu- 
ed by a Being perfectly wise, just, and benevolent. By 
this standard of ideal perfection they try the works of na- 
ture and providence ; and finding many appearances in 
both falling short of this standard, and directly condemn- 
ed by it, they conclude that perfect intelligence and 
goodness have either no existence, or no concern in the 
formation and government of the world, or that their in^ 



142 NAAMAN -tnt LEPER. [Ser. XII. 

fluence is defeated by some malignant principle of equal 
or superior force. Thus all religion is laid prostrate by- 
human vanity, assuming the right of dictating to infinite 
wisdom. But how preposterous is this ! We all con- 
demn the proud folly of the Syrian Captain in determin- 
ing beforehand the manner, which the prophet of 
Jehovah ought to observe in curing his leprosy, and 
in refusing the important blessing offered him, because ' 
the mode of conveying it did not answer to his previous 
expectations. And is not that pride still more foolish 
and presumptuous, which settles beforehand a system of 
operation for the Deity ; which decides by abstract hu- 
man reasoning how he Ought to have made and to govern 
the universe ; and which concludes that there is no God, 
or no perfect moral governor, and so no sure foundation 
for piety and virtue, m.erely because a few detached ap- 
pearances do not accord with its own blind but boasted 
theory ? Shall the insect, w hose sphere of vision is bound- 
ed by a circumference of one or two inches, lay out the 
plan of a magnificent palace, or censure the skill of the 
architect on account of some apparent speck or rough- 
ness in that part of the building, w hich he is able to sur- 
vey ? Yet the greatest human or even created mind is 
far less than such an insect, when compared with the 
infinite Being, or with the immensity of his works and 
designs. In short, w^e are wholly incompetent to de- 
cide, by mere speculation, what kind of a world, or 
w^hat scheme of administration was most worthy of 
boundless intelligence and goodness. 

We may indeed reasonably conclude, that the pro- 
duction of tlie greatest sum of virtue and happiness 
must have been intended by an all perfect Creator ; but 
w^hat means would be necessary and best fitted to this 
end, can be known to us only by fact and experience. 
Now experience and analogy teach us that many things-, 



Sbr. XII.] NAAMAN THE LEPER, 143 

which at first view seem most repugnant to the order, 
beauty, and happiness of the system, are on the w^hole 
conducive to each ; that the most disagi'eeable things in 
nature and providence are the result of good general 
laws, and in many instances produce the most salutary 
effects ; that so far as our observation reaches, the con- 
stitution of the world affords numberless proofs of wise 
and benevolent design, of a holy and righteous admin- 
istration, of a prevailing tendency to happiness ; and 
finally that the great mixture of evil in this part of the 
creation contributes in various respects to the increase 
of virtue and felicity, and is probably a branch of one 
comprehensive scheme, which embraces die universe, 
and eternity, and which will eventually produce the 
greatest quantity of good. Influenced by these sober 
sentiments, let us submit our vain imaginations to the 
test of experience. Like the Syrian leper, let us be per- 
suaded honestly to try whether the waters of Jordan be 
not better than the fancied streams of Abana and Phar- 
par. Let us faithfully use the means of safety and happi- 
ness, which are actually afforded, before we venture to 
despise them, or to imagine that other and better re- 
sources ought to have been provided. 

But this brings us to the main object of this discourse, 
viz. to apply the text to the subject of re^oeakd religioiu 
Many persons profess themselves friends to the religion 
of nature, while they spurn the gospel of Christ ; 
they erect the former on the ruins of the latter, just as 
Naaman magnified the rivers of his own country at the 
expense of those in the land of Israel. But their rea- 
sonings against revelation are at best uncertain, abstract 
speculations, which will not stand the trial of fact and 
experience. When these objectors extol the sufficien- 
cy of natural light, we can appeal to the actual state of 
the whole heathen world, both ancient and modern, for a 



144 NAAMAN THE LEPER. [Ser. XIL 

confutation of their pretence. Besides, if the law of na^ 
ture were ever so plain and perfect, what would this avail 
to imperfect, depraved, and obnoxious offenders ? Can 
a perfect law pardon and justify its guilty violators ? 
Can it cure the moral leprosy they have contracted ? 
Can it ease their wounded consciences, and restore them 
to the assured favour of their offended Creator ? Does it 
become persons in this situation to despise that divine 
Prophet, who offers to heal them ? Does it become them to 
reject tliat heavenly instruction and assistance, forgiveness 
and consolation, which he only can bestow ? Will such 
objectors say that they are not satisfied with the credentials 
of this divine Messenger ? That the miracles alleged 
in proof of his mission are romantic and incredible tales ? 
But if sinful men needed an extraordinar}^ instructor, it 
was equally necessary diat the mission and doctrine of 
such a teacher should be confirmed by extraordinary or 
miraculous proof. His miracles therefore were equally 
important and credible with his merciful instructions. 

Will they say that !>ome of his doctrines are absurd^ 
unintelligible, or useless ? But perhaps the doctrines in 
question appear absurd merely because they contradict 
and condemn the pride, the prejudices, or the corrupt 
dispositions of the objectors. Those, who love darkness 
rather than light, who set up their own wjsdom or lusts 
as tl;ieir supreme rukj will naturally dislike those truths, 
which cross ^nd mortify then>selves. What is there re- 
ally absurd in the gospel doctrine of redemption ? Was 
it unworthy of infinite benevolence to send a person, of 
superior, of divine dignity, to enlighten an ignorant, tQ 
atone for a guilty, to sanctify and console a depraved 
and miserable world ; especially when all other expedi- 
(gnts for its recovery had been long tri^d in vain ? Does 
it become sinnei^s, redeemed at such a price, to find fault 
i^ith that mysterious love, to which they are sp much 



Ser. XII.] NAAMAN THE LEPER. 145 

indebted, or to refuse its offered blessings, merely be- 
cause they cannot co^nprehend all the reasons on which 
it proceeds, or the precise manner, in which its infinite 
benefits are conveyed? Are not the reasons and the 
mode of divine operation in the works of nature and 
providence equally unsearchable ? Do not many of the 
common proceedings of the Most High equally trans- 
cend our conceptions, and confound all our previous cal- 
culations ? Does not analogy therefore lead us to expect 
similar and even greater wonders in the extraordinary 
dispensations of his grace ? Besides, though we cannot 
fully comprehend the divine conduct, or those doctrines, 
w*hich relate to it ; yet we may know enough of these 
truths to regulate our own practice. By diligent and 
prayerful contemplation we may obtain that knowledge 
of God and the Mediator, and of the revealed method 
of salvation, which may effectually guide and animate 
us to the correspondent duties of pious gratitude and 
reverence, faith and confidence, imitation and obedience. 
If we cannot understand all the reasons of God's ap- 
pointments, yet the appointments themselves are sufii- 
ciently obvious, and are recommended to our observ- 
ance by the strongest motives. The prescriptions of 
the gospel are very plain and decided ; " wash and be 
clean;" *' believe and be saved;" " repent and be for- 
given ;" ** ask and receive." Was it foolish and base 
in the Syrian leper to spurn the plain direction of Elisha, 
because he could not see why or how the waters of Jor- 
dan could be more medicinal than any other ? And is it 
not far more absurd and criminal for sinners, on a like 
pretence, to reject the equally evident precepts of Chris- 
tianity ? Suppose we could see no fitness in the estab- 
lished connexion between repentance and forgiveness, 
between faith and salvation ; yet to argue merely from 
our ignorance that this establishment is arbitrarv, absurd j 



146 NAAMAN THE L^PER. CSer. Xlh 

or incredible, would be infinite folly and presumption. 
For though it is very fit and pious to inquire with mod- 
est reverence into the ends and reasons of God's dis- 
pensations and requirements ; yet to set up our igno- 
rance against his manifest authority and wisdom, is the 
extreme of madness and impiety. Besides, we can see 
an evident fitness in the very nature of the gospel pre- 
scriptions. What can be more reasonable than that a 
rebel should repent^ that is, cease to be a rebel, before 
he is pardoned? And since the repentance of the indi- 
vidual, however sincere, cannot repair the public injury 
and dishonour occasioned by disobedience ; how suita- 
ble is it that the humble penitent should belie^De, that is, 
heartily acquiesce and confide in that Mediator and 
atonement, w^hich his oifended but merciful Sovereign 
has appointed ? How suitable, how necessary is that vi- 
tal gospel faith, w^hich opens the heart to the influence 
of those tmths, which alone can enlighten and comfort, 
purify and exalt it ? How reasonable is it that the repent- 
ing and pardoned believer should henceforth live, not to 
himself, but to the honour of his forgiving God and 
compassionate Redeemer ! It appears then that the pe- 
culiar precepts of our religion are in their own nature 
morally fit and binding as well, as enjoined by infinite 
authority. They are not only plainly prescribed by 
Go0, but directly and essentially conducive to the moral 
recovery and happiness of man. 

The same observations ^vill in a great measure apply 
to the positive institutions of Christianity. These are 
manifestly necessary both to express and promote those 
in ernal and moral exercises, which ^ve have just recom- 
^mended. They are necessary to keep alive in our 
memories and hearts the great facts and doctrines of our 
religion, and thus to preserve their genuine practical 
influence on our temper and conduct. In this view the 



Ser. XII.] NAAMAN THE LEPER. 147 

appointment of a Christian Sabbath and priesthood, of a 
visible church and public worship, of gospel baptism and 
the Lord^s supper, is evidently founded in wisdom and 
goodness. Each of these ordinances is admirably fitted 
to secure and advance the great interests of piety and vir- 
tue. If the observance of outward ceremonies, as 
memorials or seals of great transactions and events, be 
recommended by the wisdom and experience of all na- 
tions and ages ; if it be proper and beneficial to our own 
countiy to celebrate the anniversary of her independ- 
ence ; it must surely be more wise and useful for Chris- 
tians to commemorate their dying and risen Redeemer 
by observing that day and those ordinances, which are 
sacred to his memory, and which remind them of their 
great duties to him and one another. Those persons 
therefore discover, not a truly philosophic and enlarged, 
but a vain and ignorant mind, who despise these Chris- 
tian institutions ; who proudly demand, what sense or 
advantage is there in separating a seventh portion of our 
time from worldly to sacred uses ; in employing so ma- 
ny hours in attending public worship and instruction ; 
in eating bread and drinking wine at the sacramental ta- 
ble ; or in pouring w^ater on the face of an unconscious 
infant? It would be a sufficient answer to these questions 
to say, that the divine Founder of our religion has seen 
fit to establish these ceremonies, as tokens of our faith 
and obedience, and the ordinary channels and seals of 
his spiritual blessing. And shall we refuse such easy 
methods of expressing our regard to him, and of draw- 
ing do^Mi his saving benediction on us ? If, as tlie ser- 
vants of Naaman reason with their master, if our divine 
Lord had bidden us do some great thing, ought we not 
gladly to have done it ? If he had enjoined upon us 
services as burdensome and costly as those of the ancient 
A a 



148 NAAMAN the leper. [Sfeii. XII. 

Jews ; ought we not cheerfully to perform them, as a 
grateful return for his costly love, and as the mean of 
enjoying liis infinite benefits ? How much more then, 
when he only bids us observe a few simple and expres- 
sive rites, whi^h directly tend to our edification and com- 
foil as well, as to his honour ? 

This train of thought may be equally applied to all the 
means of religion. In the case before us as well, as in 
other paiticulars, there is a beautiful analogy between the 
world of nature and that of grace. In both God accom- 
plishes his ends by the instrumentality of means. In 
both his blessing is connected with our prudent and 
dutiful exertions. As his providence supports our nat- 
ural lives only in the use of our own activity ; so his 
p-race ordinarily quickens and saves our souls only in 
the way of our serious and prayerful diligence. Though 
God could have cured the Syrian leper without his 
washing in Jordan, and though he could, if he saw fit, 
purify us from sin without the application of means, 
yet the cure of the former was wisely connected with 
his obedience to a certain prescription ; and our spir- 
itual renovation and final salvation are with equal wis- 
dom connected with an earnest attendance on the means 
of grace. By this process God proclaims his sove- 
reignty and our duty. While he teaches us to depend 
on him for all spiritual blessings, he obliges us to seek 
them in his own way, and in the best use of those fac- 
ulties and privileges, which he has given us. We grant 
that the prayers and endeavours of unrenewed sinners, 
however solemn and zealous, are not truly hoLy ; nor 
can they of themselves produce a sanctified heart, or 
justly claim this blessing from God. Yet that merciful 
Being, who hears the cry of the ravens, and who honour- 
ed his own appointment in the case of this leper, by mak- 
ing it effectual to his recovery, may equally bless his 



Sfi^. XII.] NAAMAN THE LEPER. 149 

own means to the saving good of those, who seriously 
attend them. Let none then be induced to neglect or 
despise these means under a false idea of exalting or 
trusting in mere sovereign grace. We do not really 
honour, but tempt and insult the Almighty , when we ex- 
pect his blessing in any other way, than he himself has 
warranted. If the diseased Syrian acted wisely in try- 
ing the method of cure proposed by a prophet of Isra- 
el, with whom he had no previous acquaintance ; how 
much greater encouragement have we to try the pre- 
scriptions of the gospel ; we, who know that these direc- 
tions come from God, that they have proved effectual 
to all who have sincerely followed them, that the ob- 
servance of them will afford present as well, as endless 
felicity, and that inattention or disobedience to them 
will render our disease incurable, and consign us to ev- 
erlasting perdition ! What \vx)rds or imagination can de- 
scribe the wisdom of embracing, and the madness of re- 
jecting these merciful proposals ! May Almighty grace 
deeply impress these ideas on our hearts ! 

I cannot willingly close without distinctly remark- 
ing the happy and glorious effects, which in the instance 
before us grew out of a few small and unpromising cir- 
cumstances. A little Hebrew maid in Naaman's fami- 
ly informs him of a prophet in the hostile land of Israel, 
who could cure his inveterate disease. He travels into 
this country with a retinue of servants. These servants, 
by interposing at a critical moment as humble counsel* 
lors, were the occasion of his cure. This miraculous 
cure of his body reclaimed his mind from its former ^ 

idolatry to the belief and worship of Jehovah, the God 
of Israel. This conversion of a high officer in Syria, 
and its visible fruits had probably some happy influence 
on his idolatrous countrymen, particularly on his o^vn 
family, especially on those faithful attendants, to whom 



J 

J 



150 NAAMAN THE LEPER. [Ser. XII. 

he had been so highly indebted. Thus a number of 
little incidents, like a few scattered seeds, may spring 
up into a copious harvest, and the conversion of one 
sinner may spread out into the reformation of a multi- 
tude. Thus too the disease of the body, or some out- 
ward calamity, may and often does, like Naaman's lep- 
rosy, prove the first step to the salvation of the soul. 

In these and many other particulars, how wonderful, 
how glorious are the ways of Providence ! What im- 
portant lessons do they teach us ! They instruct us not 
to despise, but to regard with a degree of reverence the 
meanest persons and the slightest events ; since these 
may be the destined instruments of the greatest, yea of 
infinite good. They teacji us to support with resignation, 
fortitude, and even thankfulness the most perplexing 
and afiiictive circumstances ; since these may eventual- 
ly prove or occasion the most valuable and permanent 
benefits. 

They instruct persons of superior station or talents to 
receive with calmness, condescension, and gratitude 
good counsel or information, even when offered by ser- 
vants or inferiors ; since they may, at least in some in- 
stances, possess more reason and virtue than themselves. 

Finally, wjien wp behold the Supreme Ruler accona- 
plishing the most important ends by means apparently the 
most trivial and inadequate, yea, educing future and eter- 
nal good from present evil ; how fervently should we 
echo the pious exclamation of the apostle — " O the 
depths of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge 
of God! How unsearchable are his judgrnents, and his 
ways past finding out ! For who hath known the mind of 
the Lord, or who hath been his counsellor ? For of him, 
and through him, and to him are all things ; to him be 
glory forever. Amen." 



Sermon xiir. 
On the Love of the World. 



1 John ii. 15. 

Love not the ii^orld, neither the things that are in the 
iDorld. If any man lo'oe the ijoorld, the love of the Fa- 
ther is not in him. 

V V HAT a dreadful sound do these words convey to 
the ears of those, whose affections and pursuits are 
MTapped up in sensible objects ! By the world and the 
things of it we are to understand this earth, or the pres- 
ent scene of human existence, with the various materials 
for activity and enjoyment, which are furnished by it, 
and terminate in it. By loving the worid and its con- 
tents cannot be meant every kind and degree of earthly 
attachment : for the Author of nature has planted in the 
human constitution such a variety of affections and 
appetites, and surrounded us with so many objects, 
harmoniously adapted to these affections ; that some 
degree of love to these objects is at once natural and 
unavoidable, becoming and beautiful : without it, we 
could neither discharge the essential duties, nor enjoy 
the valuable comforts of the present state. Besides, the 
world, considered as the production of Deity, and as 
destined by Him for the accommodation and entertain, 
ment of man, justly claims our grateful and admiring 
affection ; which affection, fai^ from excluding or abating, 
directly cherishes and improves our pious sentiments 
and ackno\vledgments to the glorious and beneficent 
Creator. 



152 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIIL 

When therefore Qhr|.stianity requires us to renounce 
tlie world, the idea is, that the world, considered as 
perverted by human apostasy, as nourishing and inflam- 
ing our c^rrupl: affections ^ or, in other words, an earthly 
and sensual life, conducted upon the maxims of world- 
ly and depraved men, is forbidden, as incompatible 
with that spiritual and heavenly life, to which we are 
called by the gospel. Agreeably, the verse following 
the text explains the prohibited objects of attachrnent by 
voluptuousness, avarice, and worldly ambition. In 
short, our love to any earthly good falls within the 
description of the apostle, when it habitually exceeds its 
proper limits, or usurps the empire of our hearts. 

It therefore becomes a very interesting inquiry, When 
our love to the world may be styled inordinate, or be 
said to form our ruUng affection. After we have satis- 
fied this inquiry, we will endeavour, to show, that such, a 
worldly temper is incompatible with the character and 
hopes of a real Christian. 

I. When may our eiarthly affections be called im- 
moderate, so as to reach the sense of die text ? We 
answer, 

Fii:<st. When the world, or any object in it engrosses 
our thoughts in a degree, which excludes serious re- 
flection or pious meditation ; our love to it becomes un- 
suitable and idolatrous. Certainly the infinite God, who 
gave us the faculty of thought, is the most worthy ob- 
ject of its exercises. The contemplation of his perfec- 
tions, works, and revealed will, is the most noble, mo- 
mentous, and perfective employment of our rational na- 
tures. Serious and earnest consideration of spiritual 
and divine subjects is likewise the first step to true 
conversion from sin to holiness as well, as a principal 
mean and evidence of continued, progressive piety in 
the human heart. When a person therefore has his 



Ser. XIII.] OF THE WORLD. 153 

thoughts so immersed in worldly business or pleasures, 
that religious ideas find a very rare and unwelcome ad- 
mittance ; when he industriously shifts off' these ideas to 
some more convenient season ; when he contents him- 
self with giving a few spiritless and broken thoughts to 
God and religion upon one day in seven, or at the 
seasons of his morning and evening devotion, as a kind 
of compensation for sacrificing all the rest of his time to 
some earthly idol ; in short, when the world is his con- 
stant associate, the last companion of his thoughts, when 
he begins to sleep, and the first, when he awakes ; these 
are sure symptoms of predominant worldly affections': 
for as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he. If a man 
then thinks of the w^orld with the gi'eatest frequency, 
freedom, and delight, he is certainly a worldly character. 

Secondly. When the things of the w^orld engross our 
whole conversation, it is an evidence of the same truth. 
Man is so formed, that the ruling dispositions of his 
heart will give their own complexion to his social inter- 
course. If then we have no taste for any society or 
conversation, but that which savours of the world ; if we 
scarce ever mention the name of God or the Redeemer, 
or introduce any religious subject in our daily converse, 
except it be in a light, or cavilling, in a profane, or at 
best disputatious manner ; we give, at least, probable 
evidence, that we love the world more than God. 

Thirdly. Our attachment to the world is immoderate, 
if we are unwilling to part with it upon proper occasions, 
or to give it up to the divine disposal. If we are back- 
w^ard to improve that portion of it wdth which God en- 
trusts us, in a manner agreeable to his pleasure and 
honour ; if we take more delight in hoarding large and 
useless treasures, or in sacrificing them to unbounded 
vanity and luxury, than in supplying and comforting the 
children of want and distress, or in serving God, the 



X54 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIH. 

church, and commonwealth, by acts of generous and 
pious munificence ; if it is a burden to us to support 
the gospel, and ministers of Christ, or the necessary civ- 
il government of our country ; in short, if we do not 
readily seize, and even rejoice in every opportunity of 
doing good w ith our substance ; we make it manifest 
that we love a little worldly interest above God, Christ, 
our neighbour, our country, yea our own everlasting 
happiness. The same observation will apply to those, 
who cannot willingly resign their estates, their honours^ 
their friends, their earthly all, when divine Providence 
calls for such a sacrifice; who cannot comparatively 
hate and despise even the most excellent and beloved 
creatures, when set in competition with the will and the 
friendship of the Creator ; but whose murmuring or de- 
sponding sentiments, when stripped of their earthly treas- 
ures or comforts, evidently speak this language; " Ye 
have taken away my gods, and what have I more?" 

Fourthly. Discontentment with our portion of the 
world proclaims a criminal love to it. If we secretly repine, 
because we are not blessed with every earthly conveni- 
ence, elegance, and delight, which some others possess ; 
if we are not entirely willing, that God should govern his 
own world, and distribute his own favours, as he pleas- 
es ; it proves that we pay that homage to the world, 
v/hich belongs only to its infinite Maker and Sovereign. 
If we loved God above all, we should be content and 
satisfied with Him, with his will, his fulness, and his 
love. We should feel rich and happy in such a Friend 
and Portion, however poor and low in worldly respects. 
If then the mere w ant of worldly affluence throws us into 
an undutiful or peevish frame towards the Most High, or 
produces envious feelings towards our more prosperous 
neighbour ; we certainly set the vvorld in God's place. 



Ser. xiii.] of the world. 155 

The same remark may be made upon those, who al- 
low themselves in a distrustful anxiety respecting their 
temporal concerns ; whose imagination is continually 
foreboding some distressing or fatal accident to their 
possessions and enjoyments, to their children, or other 
agreeable connexions. Such anxiety about any world- 
ly interest or comfort, as unfits us for duty, for society, 
for a thankful and cheerful use of the blessings of Prov- 
idence, betrays an unwarrantable affection to the w^orld ; 
for, if we loved it within proper limits, we should resign 
the comforts of it to the disposal of our heavenly Father. 
While we exercised a provident and industrious care re- 
specting our temporal concerns, this prudent attention 
would be qualified by a filial acquiescence and confi- 
dence in the governing wisdom and good pleasure of 
God. We discover a criminal attachment to worldly 
good, when we pursue it with greater zeal, and enjoy it 
with higher relish and transport, than we do the service 
and favour of God, or the sublime pleasures and hopes 
of religion. We always manifest the greatest eagerness 
for, and delight in those objects, which stand highest in 
our affection. The zeal and pleasure, with which we 
serve our friends, or seek and enjoy their society, are 
proportioned to the place, which they hold in our hearts. 
If then we feel greater ardour and delight in religious 
services and entertainments, than in any other, it is a 
proof that the objects of religion are supreme in our af- 
fections. But if we have litde or no relish for devotion- 
al exercises ; if the private and public worship of God 
be to us a barren, insjpid, and burdensome ceremony ; if, 
while our bodies are engaged in it, our thoughts and de- 
sires are roving to the ends of the earth ; we prove our- 
selves utter strangers to the love of God. If we can 
readily, and excessively mourn any temporal loss or 
B b 



156 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIIL 

calamity, but feel no emotions of grief under the con- 
sciousness of spiritual evils, under the privation of the 
sensible presence and fellowship of our Maker ; we 
exhibit clear proof, that we value the world far more than 
the favour of God. 

Sixthly. If we pride ourselves in earthly distinctions, 
we manifest the supremacy of worldly affection. If we 
expect great deference, and resent the least contradiction 
from others, merely because we are raised above them 
in earthly riches and honour ; it is plain we overrate 
these trifling, adventitious things, in a very puerile and 
sinful manner. Our fondness for these splendid bau- 
bles clothes them, in our esteem, with a thousand imag- 
inary excellencies. It gives them a kind of magical charm, 
by which their possessor, though destitute, it may be, of 
every recommending accomplishment both of head and 
heart, is at once transformed into a sensible, noble, mer- 
itorious character, and on this ground challenges impli- 
cit submission, and admiration from those, to whom 
fortune has been less propitious, though possessing per- 
haps a thousand times more personal dignity. 

Seventhly. Our love to the world is inordinate, when 
we seek to acquire or retain it in a wrong manner, or by 
linwarrantable means. For example, if we leap over 
the bomid of strict truth or justice in our worldly deal- 
ings ; if we artfully evade, or openly violate the impar- 
tial rule of equity, prescribed by our Saviour ; if we 
take advantage of the ignorance, the credulity, the confi- 
dence, or necessity of others ; if we go into schemes of 
speculation or enterprise, which have for their motive 
an unbounded desire of w^ealth, or w^hose manifest ob- 
ject or tendency is to procure a sudden accession of 
w^ealth to ourselves, to the. immediate or ultimate injury 
either of the public at large, or of many worthy families 



Ser. XIII.] OF THE WORLD. 157 

and individuals ; if we engage either in some unlawful 
occupation, or in such a multiplicity of worldly busi- 
ness, as shuts out the duties of piety and charity ; if 
we deliberately plunge ourselves into debts, which m e 
have no reasonable prospect of discharging, or enter into 
engagements, the fulfilment of which exceeds our abili- 
ty ; if we refuse compliance with the demands of equity, 
till we ai*e forced to fulfil them ; or designedly put it 
out of our povrer to satisfy such claims ; or continue to 
impro\'e what is due to another, without his knowledge 
or consent ; if we are determined to pursue and enjoy 
the world to the utmost limits of what is lawful, or to 
venture in this road as far, as w^e possibly can without 
exposing ourselves to certain damnation ; in short, if 
it be our rule of conduct to employ every measure short 
of actual theft and robbery, to obtain and keep worldly 
property ; in all or either of these cases we manifest 
that excessive love to present good, which is condemned 
in the text. 

11. The way is now prepared to show that such a love 
to the world is inconsistent w ith the love of God, or with 
the Christian character and hope. What I now mean 
to prove is, that, when such inordinate worldly affection 
habitually possesses and rules the heart, the love of God 
is certainly \\'anting. 

For, First, the nature of things and the constitution of 
the human soul forbid the supposition of its loving two 
different, much more two contrary objects, supremely, 
at the same time. As man has but one heart, one self, 
so he can give this but to one master, or chief good 
at once ; for it is a plain contradiction to say, that one 
heart can have t\\ o chief goods at the same time ; for, 
if one be chief, the other must be subordinate. If the 
heart lays itself out supremely, or fully, upon one, it 



158 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIII. 

must proportionably exclude the other, as having no 
room to receive it, no vigour to bestow upon it. If | 
we could suppose the heart equally divided between 
two objects ; in this case, it could not properly be said 
to love and serve either, as its master ; for the two ob- 
jects or affections, like two equal and opposite forces, 
would destroy each other, in such a sense at least, as to 
leave the soul free from the dominion of either. Our 
Saviour has decided this case in short, when he says, 
*' No servant can serve two masters ; for either he will 
hate the one and love the other ; or else he v/ill hold to 
the one and despise the other ; ye cannot serve God 
and maniynon." The servant must either hate one mas- 
ter in proportion as he loves the other ; or if we suppose 
; him to love both, yet the more attentive and obedient 
he is to the one, the more negligent and regardless he 
must necessarily be of the other ; which demonstrates 
the utter impossibility of serving God and the world at 
the same time. This will be further illustrated, if we 
observe, 

Secondly, That the commands and interests of 
these two masters in many instances clash with each 
other ; so that in obeying one, a man must necessarily 
disobey and^renounce the other. 

It is the first and great command of God, that we love 
him with all our hearts, and souls, and strength, and 
have no other god, or portion, but himself. But mam- 
mon requires and persuades its votaries to love the 
world with all their hearts, and to cleave to it, as their 
god and portion. God enjoins us to adhere closely 
to his institutions in our religious worship ; but the 
world entices its admirers, either to neglect the worship 
of Jehovah, or to corrupt it with human inventions, iu 
order to suit it to worldly inclinations and views. God 



Ser. XIII.] OF THE WORLD. 159 

requires of us a reverential and sacred use of his name, 
attributes, sabbath, word, and works ; but the love of 
the world often leads men to an impious prostitution of 
them for secular purposes. God commands us to be 
content with such things, as we have j but the love of 
the world speaks a language directly the reverse. The 
command of God forbids fraud and unriditeousness, 
theft and falsehood ; it forbids us to covet the proper- 
ty, or to envy the prosperity of our neighbour ; but the 
world inspires its votaries with dispositions, and urges 
them to actions, diametrically opposite to these precepts. 
God expressly requires us to set our affections on things 
above, not on things on the eai'th ; to seek first the kingdom 
of God and his righteousness ; comparatively to hate our 
deai'est worldly connexions and interests ; to lay up our 
treasure in heaven, and in heait to sell all that we have, 
that we may purchase the pearl of great price ; to be 
anxiously thoughtful or careful for nothing here below, 
but to exercise a cheerful, thankful, supplicating de- 
pendence on our heavenly Father, both for our present 
subsistence and our final happiness; and in a word, to 
consecrate our all to the great purposes of honouring 
God, doing good to men, and promoting our own ever- 
lasting salvation. But inordinate worldly affection op- 
poses and defeats both the spirit and the letter of the di- 
vine requisitions. What the apostle predicates of the 
love of money equally applies to the attachment before 
us, which indeed is nearly coincident with it ; it is the 
root of all evil ; it is an unfailing source, a comprehen- 
sive summary of human transgression and misery in di 
their varied forms. It leads to, or rather implies the 
heinous sin of idolatry ; for every covetous or worldly 
man is pronounced by the word of God an idolater. 
What is idolatry but paying divine honours to a crea- 



160 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIII. 

ture ? And what higher acts of honour can we render to 
the Deity, than supreme love and confidence ? These 
every covetous, and, I may add, every sensual and am- 
bitious man pays to the world. What though he does 
not formally bow down his body before it ? He does un- 
speakably more ; he makes all the faculties and aflec- 
tions of his soul bow down to this idol. What though 
he does not literally offer sacrifice or burn incense to 
mammon ? W^hat though he does not present to it so 
much as one bleeding lamb ? He offers that, which is 
far more valuable : he sacrifices the poor, by suffering 
them to perish with want ; he offers his own body, by 
exposing it to every hardship and peril for the sake of 
gain ; yea he offers his soul to this his deity, as a whole 
burnt offering, by devoting it to everlasting flames for 
the sake of the world. W^ho, my brethren, are the 
most stupid and detestable idolaters ? Those w^ho offer 
slain beasts to the sun and to fire ? Or those who sacri- 
fice their own bodies and souls to dirt and clay ? 

It would be endless to enumerate the black catalogue 
of crimes, which issue from this love of the world ; the 
extortion and oppression, the hatred and strife, the false- 
hood and unrighteousness, the perjury and profanation 
of public justice, the robberies and murders, the wars 
and bloodshed. There is no evil, whether private, do- 
mestic, or public ; no impiety against God, nor injury 
against men, which is not wrapped up in this prolific 
passion, and which has not been actually generated by 
it. The heart, therefore, which, is the subject of a 
reigning principle so extensively evil, cannot be the true 
servant of a Being infinitely good. Which leads us 
to add, 

Thirdly, Since God, on account of his transcendent 
excellence and worth, is entitled to our supreme affec- 



seh. xtil] of the world. 161 

tion ; it follows that no regard to him can be proper and 
acceptable, which does not fai' exceed our love to any- 
other object. If therefore a person possessed some de- 
gree of respect to God, but at the same time regarded 
the world w ith still higher esteem and affection ; the 
former would be justly accounted, as nothing, as vanity, 
and a lie. For nothing merits the name of love and 
homage to the Supreme, but that which treats him as 
supremely glorious, and accordingly gi\^es him the 
supremacy, yea, the entire possession of the heart. 
Since therefore the reigning love of the world denies 
him this supreme affection ; it is justly stigmatized as 
inconsistent with proper and genuine love to him. This 
reasoning will acquire additional strength, if we observe. 
Fourthly, That the same realizing and efficacious views 
of the glory of God, which attract the least degree of 
true love to him, will certainly produce a supreme af- 
fection. All unrenewed or impenitent sinners are 
inimical to the great Jehovah, from a conviction of his, 
holiness, justice, and truth, and of their own contrariety 
to this holiness, and consequent exposedness to the con- 
demning sentence of this justice and truth. This enmity- 
can be removed only by the removal of its cause : which 
is accomplished when we become radically changed and 
renewed from sinful idolatry, by the Spirit of the divine 
Redeemer. When this is effected, we are reconciled to 
God ; being now conformed in disposition to his moral 
character. Of course those awful attributes of Deity, 
which before we viewed with dislike and terror, are now- 
amiable and consoling to our minds. His holiness, 
which is the sum and crown of his perfections, is now 
congenial and delightful to our sanctified taste, and 
raises our highest esteem and complacency. I say our 
highest esteem ; for the same objective grounds, which 



162 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIIL 

engage us to love him at all, will constrain our superlative 
aiFection : for we love every object according to its ap- 
parent loveliness and value. Now, since God necessarily 
appears to the enlightened and renewed mind, the best and 
most excellent Being ; since he is an object perfectly suit- 
ed to its rectified dispositions, and fitted to satisfy its 
largest desires and expectations ; it wilLof cpurse give him 
its highest love. It will seek and find its proper happiness 
in him alone. It will despise and renounce all created 
sources of enjoyment, when brought into comparison or 
competition with him. Where there is not this tran- 
scendent love to the chief good taking place of inordi- 
nate worldly attachments ; there is not that spiritual 
renovation in the views and affections of the mind, 
which is essential to the Christian character. 

Our subject may be applied for the conviction and 
terror of those, v/hose character answers to the descrip- 
tion of the text. It is to be feared there are many 
•^nominal Christians, who really belong to this class, who 
yet esteem themselves true disciples of Christ, and 
heirs of his heavenly kingdom. They cloak their cov- 
etous desires and pursuits under the soft and innocent 
names of prudence and economy, of commendable dili- 
gence, or necessary attention to the support of their 
iamiiies. Similar arts of self deception are used by 
those, who are supremely devoted to the honours or 
pleasures of the world. But let me beseech all such 
characters critically to examine their own habitual feel- 
ings and conduct, by those marks of a worldly temper, 
which have been specified ; and if ""on such inquiry, con- 
science shall pronounce them guilty, let them solemnly 
consider, that the word of God excludes them from the 
catalogue of Christians, and expressly shuts them out of 
the kingdom of heaven. Let them remember too, that 



Ser. XIII.] ON THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 163 

the nature of things as well, as the revealed constitution 
of God, debars those, whose hearts, whose chosen trea- 
sures have been \^ holly earthly and sensual from the 
spiritual and refined felicity of the celestial world. It i? 
congruous, it is necessary, that our fate should corres- 
pond to our prevailing choice and character during this 
preparatory state. If then the world be the main ob- 
ject of our affection and delight, our happiness, such as 
it is, must necessarily expire, and a state of consequent 
misery ensue from the instant, in which death shall sep- 
arate us from this idol of our hearts. Then, if not be- 
fore, we shall fully realize the truth and emphasis of the 
poet's monitory representation ; 

" Lean not on erirth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; 

A broken reed at best ; but oft a spear ; 

On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires." 

Let us all renicmber, that the world in its best state 
cannot suit and fill an immortal spirit ; that its purest 
enjoyments are at once mixed and unsatisfying, preca- 
rious and transitory. Reason, experience, and revela- 
tion unitedly proclaim that all below is vanity. Thus 
saith the Lord, Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain. 
Riches take to themselves wings, and fly away. World- 
ly honour and sensual gratification afford but a short- 
lived gleam of pleasure. Earthly friendships are im- 
perfect and mortal. The world itself is passing away. 
From henceforth then let us seek a better countrv, that 
is, an heavenly. Ye that seek it, seek it early. Set 
yoiu- affections on things above, not on things of the 
earth. For, by your Christian baptism and profession, 
ye are dead to the world, and alive to God and heaven. 
Act agreeably to this profession. Let your life be hid 
with Christ in God. Then, when Christ, who is our 
life, shall appear, ye also shall appear with him in glory. 
c c 



®cnncm xiv. 

On the Divine Preference of Mercy to 
Sacrificei. 



Matthew xii. 7. 
/ "Will haise mercy y and not sacrifice. 

HIS passage is quoted by our Saviour from the 
Oid Testament, to justify his disciples in gathering and 
rubbing out a few handfuls of com, for their necessary 
refreshment on the Sabbath day. When the supersti- 
tious Pharisees condemned this action, as a profana- 
tion of the Sabbath, Jesus repels the accusation by show- 
ing, from their own scriptures, that God requires acts 
of charity before positive or ceremonial observances. 

When God declares by his prophet, " I desired mer- 
cy, and not sacrifice," the genius of the Hebrew lan- 
guage, and the general tenor of Scripture, oblige us to 
understand it in a comparative sense ; as importing that 
the Deity values sacrifice y^r less than mercy, and when 
they interfere with each other, he requires us to omit 
the former, and attend to the latter. Many important 
texts, both in the old and new Testament, must be evi- 
dently expounded in this comparative sense. 

The words, thus explained, suggest the following 
proposition ; That moral duties towards men are a more 
valuable and essential branch of religion, than external 
acts of worship towards God. 

To set the proposition before us in a correct and just 
light, I must observe that religion essentially consists 



*^ER. XIV.3 THE DIVINE PREFEREKXE, Ice, 165 

m the respect of dependent creatures to their Creator ; 
which respect^ expressed in eyeiy suitable \vay, com^ 
prises the whole of rejigious duty. Hence acts of jus- 
tice and charity towards men may and do form a part 
of religion, because a true regard to God will prompt 
sincere love and beneficence to his creatures ; and when 
these social affections and offices flow from a pious re- 
spect to God ; \\'hen only a cup of cold water is given to 
one of Christ's disciples, as a testimony of love and obe. 
dience to him ; it is as properly an exergise of true re- 
ligion, as those duties, which imniediately .refer to our 
Maker, 

Accordingly, the duties of religion are justly divided 
into two great classes ; one of which refers inime* 
diately to God, the other to man. It must be further 
observed, tliat the worship of God consists of two parts, 
external and internal : the former is made up of bodily 
and visible action ; the latter of the secret dispositions 
and exercises of the heart. The one is an outward sign 
or manifestation of the other, and is also an essential in- 
gredient in social or public woi*ship ; as without it our 
common sentiments and feelings could not be expressed. 
But internal homage, consisting in heartj^ love, rever- 
ence, gratitude, penitence, and deshe, constitutes the 
main part, yea the soul of true religion and of acceptably 
worship. To illustrate still further this ipiportant dis- 
tinction, let us attend to tiie ancient Jewish sacrifices^ 
to which our text alludes, and which formed a large part 
of God^s ancient instituted worship, 

The killing and offering of beasts upon the ^Itar was 
the external part, or the body of that worship ; while love 
to God, repentance of sin, and faith in the future sacrifice 
of Christ, were the inward and vital spirit of it. The 
Jatter was an indispensable duty at all seasons and in ail 



166 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [Seh. XIV. 

situations, because it was of tnoral and immutable obli- 
gation. But the former varied, according to the cir- 
cumstances, opportunities, and abilities of the subject. 
Agreeably, the apostle tells us, that, where there is a 
willing mind, a man is accepted according to that which 
he hath, and not according to that which he hath not. 
While therefore God always requires the homage of our 
hearts, he may alter, and even sometimes dispense with 
visible forms of devotion, where circumstances or some 
greater duties forbid their observance. 

Accordingly, we are now prepared to prove, that acts 
of justice, mercy, and usefulness to our fellow men are 
greater duties, than external religious worship ; though 
they are confessedly inferior to that inward devotion to- 
v^-ards our Maker, which is the first and parent duty. 
This superiority of moral duties is confirmed, not only 
by the express declaration of our text, but by numer- 
ous arguments both from Scripture and reason. 

In the first place, the Bible insists on these moral 
virtues much more, than it does on external worship. 
Even the law of Moses, though very strict and copious 
in its ritual prescriptions, yet dwells with peculiar fre- 
quency and emphasis upon social duties. 

In the twenty -third chapter of Exodus, that inspired 
lawgiver enumerates a long catalogue of moral virtues, 
and denounces a dreadful sentence upon those, who neg- 
lected them. *' Thou shalt not wrest the judgment 
of the poor. Thou shalt not falsely accuse nor slay 
the innocent. Thou shalt take no gift in judgment. 
Thou shalt not oppress the stranger. Six years shalt 
thou sow thy land, but the seventh thou shalt let it rest, 
that the poor of thy people may eat." In Deuterono- 
my, he dwells still more largely and earnestly on the 
same topics. *' Thou shalt not harden thy lieart, noir 



SerI XIV.] or MERCY TO SACRIFICE* WV 

shut thy hand from thy poor brother, but tliou shalt 
open thy hand wide unto him. That which is altogeth- 
er just shalt thou follow, that thou mayest live." In* 
the t\^'enty- seventh chapter of that book, he directs tlie' 
Levites to stand on Mount EbaJ, and solemnly declare 
the curse of God upon transgressors; and it is re- 
markable that of elcA-en different sorts of offenders thus 
denounced, ten are doomed for violating moral and 
relative duties, and one only for neglecting or 
corrupting the ceremonies of religion. It is also re- 
markable, that six of those ten commands, which form 
the basis, and exhibit the leading spirit of the Jewish 
system, and indeed of all true religion, are devoted to 
the several branches of social virtue. Agreeably, the 
great body of the Old Testament prophets insist frcr 
quently and principally upon justice, mercy, and truth ; 
and they prom.ise the favour and best blessings of God 
on those, w^ho steadily practise them. The Jewish 
Scriptures very often characterize the godly man, by 
tlie tpithctsjiisr, merciful^ upright. 

The same features are conspicuous in the New Tes-* 
tament writings. When various descriptions of meii 
resorted to John, to receive his instruction and baptism, 
he chiefly inculcated moral reformation and social du^ 
ty. Our Saviour too, in his sermon on the mount, 
dwells principally on a right temper and conduct to- 
wards our fellow men, and pronounces blessings on 
persons of this character. The wTitings of the apostles 
are likewise full of moral precepts. Even those epis* 
ties, W'hose prime object is the illustration, proof, or de- 
fence of evangelical doctrines, yet hold up Christian mo- 
rality as the great end and fruit of these doctrines, and 
by these they pathetically urge belie\'ers to mutual love 
and kindness, justice and truth, forgivenesIS" and long- 



168 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [Ser. XIV. 

suiFering, and the whole train of relative virtues. Since 
therefore these duties are far more insisted on through- 
out the Bible, than cisternal worship, we strongly infer 
their superior importance. 

Secondly. When these two branches of duty are 
mentioned or compared together in Scripture, the former 
is evidently preferred to the latter. 

Thus, when the prpphet Isaiah qharges tlie Jewish 
people with a yful degeneracy and wickedness, he pred- 
icates this charge, not upon their neglect of external 
worship (for they abounded in sacrifices and oblations, 
in solemn meetings and festivals) ; but upon their violation 
of justice and mercy, without wliich he assures them 
that their multiplied reUgious observance^^ were iniquity 
and abomination. He therefore calls upon them to re- 
form from their unrighteousness and cruelty, to seek 
judgment and relieve the oppressed, to judge the father- 
less and plead for the widow ; and on this conditions 
prornises them the divine acceptance and blessing. In 
anotl>er part of his prophecy, after describing the people 
of Israel as taking delight in approaching to God, in fast- 
ing, praying, and attending ordinances, and as complain- 
ing tliat their zealous sen'ices were not accepted, he pro- 
ceeds to inform them, that the more acceptable fast is to 
'' break every yoke of oppression, to deal their bread to 
the hungrj^, and to cover the naked." In this way he 
assures them of the divine benediction. The prophet 
Micah also, after speaking with comparative con- 
tempt of burnt offerings, or of presenting to God thou- 
sands of rams, or ten thousands of rivers of oil, adds ; 
*' He hath showed thee, O man, what is good ; and what 
doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to do justly, 
to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" 



Ser. XIV.] OF MERCY TO SACRIFICE. 16f 

The same decided preference of morality to external 
devotion marks many other passages of the Old Testa- 
ment. Our Saviour frequently pronounces the same 
decision ; and, in express terms, styles judgment, mer- 
cy, and fidelity the weightier matters of the law. 

Thirdly. The history of the Bible show^s, that very 
degenerate and hypocritical professors of religion more 
commonly abound in acts of worship, than in moral du- 
ties. This, we have just seen, was remarkably true of 
ancient Israel. It was equally true of the Scribes and 
Phaiisees, those worst of hypocrites, in the time of our 
Saviour. They were very precise in performing their 
religious ceremonies, while they covetously and cruelly 
devt)ured widows' houses. These facts prove, that a 
zealous and persevering attachment to devout forms is 
far more consistent with a false and degenerate heart, 
than the steady practice of social virtue ; and consequent- 
ly that the latter is more excellent, and a more de- 
cisive symptom of a good character, than the former. 

Fourthly. When the gospel'^iirects us to show our faith 
by our works, it principally intends w^orks of justice and 
charity. Thus the apostle James, when pointing out 
tile best fruits and evidences of saving faith, savs ; " If 
ye fulfil the royal law, thou shalt love thy neighbour as 
thyself, ye do wxll." He goes on ; " What doth it 
profit, my brethren, if a man say he hath faith, and hath 
not works ; can faith save him ? If a brother or sister 
be naked and destitute of daily food ; and one of you 
say to them, go your way, be ye warmed and filled ; 
notwithstanding ye give them not the things which are 
needful for the body; w^iat doth it profit?" This im- 
plies that such profession of faith is as unprofitable and 
as hollow, as good words to the naked and hungry with- 
out giving them any assistance. He aqcordingly adds^ 



^IfO THE DIVINE PREFERENCE -[S^iu Xiy. 

**^Even so faith," if it have not works, that is, such as 
ai-e enjoined in the royal law just mentioned, '' is dead ; ?' 
that is, it is wholly lifeless.and unprofitable ; yea, as the 
apostle proceeds to affirm, it is no better, than the faith 
of devils ; for it is a faith without love and its beneficent 
fruits, and of course has nothing of the spirit of true re- 
ligion or morality. Accordingly, the apostle John re- 
presents it as a natural impossibility for a man to.loye 
God, and yet neglect acts of kindness to his neighbour. 
"Whoso hath this world's goods, and seeth his brother 
in need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from 
him; how dweileth the love of God in him?" And 
through his whole epistle, he insists on brotherly love 
and its fruits, as the surest mark of love to God. Saint 
James likewise, when summarily describing real Chris- 
tianity, says, *'Pure reUgion and undefiled is this, to 
visit the fatherless and widow in their affliction." All 
which abundantly confirms the proposition before us. 

Fifthly. The Scriptures represent pur final sentence, 
as turning eminently upon our moral works. Christ, 
who is to be our Judge, tells us, that many in the day of 
judgment will plead their great religious professions and 
performances ; they will urge, that they have prophesi- 
ed in his name, that they have eaten and drunk in his 
presence, or at his table ; but their plea will be rejected. 
On the contrary, Vv orks of love and mercy towards men, 
especial!}^ towards afflicted Christians, are stated to be 
the principal things, which the Judge will honourably 
hiention and reward in the righteous, and the neglect of 
vi^hich .he will punish in the wicked. He will accept 
the former, as if done to himself ; because they floM^ed 
from, and exhibit the best evidence of a spirit of faith, 
love, and obedience to him ; and he will condemn the 
latter, as aiFording the most decisive proof of a want of 



3eb. XIVO of mercy TO SACRIFICE. 171 

true affection to himself. Our Saviour, in the twenty- 
fifth chapter of Matthew, describes this final process 
and decision in the most particular, simple, and affect- 
ing manner. We must suppose, that in this descrip- 
tion, the most important and distinguishing marks both 
of Christ's friends and enemies are held up to our view. 
Yet we find no mention made of external worship, nor 
of any thing, but the performance or omission of moral 
duties. How strong then is the inference that these, 
next to inward piety, are the most excellent part of re- 
ligion ! 

Having supported our doctrine by a variety of scrip- 
tural proof, let us listen a few moments to the voice of 
reason on this subject ; which will not only further es- 
tablish the point in hand, but show us the rational 
grounds of its truth. 

Now, in the view of reason, moral duties are superior 
to outward religious ceremonies, because the former 
are right and excellent in their own nature, and consti- 
tute a great part of the end of religion ; while the latter 
are useful chiefly, as signs or instruments of something 
further. Moral truth, justice, and charity, are unchang- 
ably fit and beautiful in themselves ; they are immedi- 
ately necessary and conducive to the general good as 
well, as to the true perfection of the agent. When 
rightly performed, they imply that holiness, and directly 
promote that happiness, which are the ultimate object of 
all religious institutions. But the external worship of 
God is valuable chiefly, as a sign of inward piety, or a 
mean of moral goodness. Substantial or practical vir- 
tue is, therefore, as much superior to religious rites, 
as the end is superior to the m»eans, or real excellence to 
the mere sign or expression of it. 
D d 



172 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [Ser. XIV. 

Again, by outward devotion we express our regard to 
God by ivords, or professions only ; but by good works 
to our neighbour we show our respect to God by deeds. 
When a man publicly professes the religion, andattends 
the ordinances of Christ, he only calls him Lord, Lord; 
but if he imitates and obeys him by a meek, kind, and 
useful conduct, he actually does the things, which he 
saith. If a man worship God by prayer and praise, 
he expresses with his lips a devout and suppliant, a pen- 
itent and thankful spirit ; but a conscientious discharge 
of all moral duties expresses the same spirit in language 
far more credible and emphatical ; I mean, the language 
of the life : he loves God and men, not in word and 
tongue only, but in deed and in truth. 

We may add, that the steady practice of moral virtues 
is far more crossing to a selfish, proud, and depraved 
heart, than the performance of religious rites. The 
kttei in many cases may be observed without much 
expense or self denial. Instead of counteracting, they 
may be rendered subservient to worldly interest, repu- 
tation, and power. Thus the ceremonial strictness and 
long prayers of the Pharisees were at once the cloak 
and the engine of their insatiable avarice, ambition and 
vanity. They served to varnish their characters, to 
promote their vices, to quiet their guilty consciences, 
and to nourish their religious hopes. But a life of strict 
justice and fidelity to their neighbours, of condescend- 
ing and liberal charity to the poor and afflicted, would 
have contradicted their selfish and haughty dispositions ; 
it would have been a eostly and fatal sacrifice of their 
covetous and criminal pursuits. 

These observations apply still more strongly to the 
ceremonial and moral precepts of Christianity. The 
religious institutions of the gospel are so few and simple, 



sbb.xiv.} of mercy to sacrifice. 17:J 

that persons may visibly attend them, without greatly 
taxing or suspending their worldly ease, emolument, or 
pleasure. At the same time, these institutions have so 
serious and sacred an aspect, that a regular and zealous 
attendance upon them may be made a convenient cover, 
compensation, or instrument, of the most immoral 
dispositions and purposes. But the practice of Christian 
morality implies the sacrifice of personal ease and hon- 
our, interest and pleasure, to the good of our neighbour 
and the public. It implies that expensive, resolute, and 
persevering self denial, which is one of the best proofs 
of a virtuous heait. 

Hence the performance of moral duties reflects great- 
er honour upon God and religion, than external devotion. 
For it exhibits a more decisive testimony, a more self 
denying proof, of inward respect and obedience to God. 
It is honouring him, not by cheap professions only, but 
by costly sacrifices. It implies an affectionate and sted- 
fast imitation of his moral character. It immediately 
reflects and recommends his moral beauty and glory. 
By practically loving our neighbour as ourselves, by 
showing an invincible regard to the rules of justice and 
charity, we prove in the best manner our devotion to 
the command, example, and honour of our Maker and 
Redeemer ; we give the most convincing testimony, that 
God is worthy to be regarded and obeyed in the great- 
est and most self denying instances, and that inordinate 
self-interest, in all its claims and appearances, is to be 
readily sacrificed on his altar. 

In short, works of benevolence, while they glorify God 
in the most substantial manner, directly contribute to 
the good of his creatures, and thus accomplish the 
two great ends of religion, namely, the happiness of the 
universe, and the honour of its Creator, 



174 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [Ser.XIV. 

We readily grant, that if our goodness extended to 
God, as it does to man ; if our external worship could 
benefit the former, as our charitable offices do the latter ; 
in this case our obligation to acts of devotion would as 
far exceed that of social duties, as God is greater than 
man. But the transcendent greatness of the Deity, while 
it entitles him to the first place in our hearts, exalts him 
infinitely above the necessity or possibility of receiving 
benefit from our services. He has, therefore, appointed 
his sensitive and rational creatures, especially such of 
them as are peculiarly dependent or indigent, to be his 
deputies or representatives, to receive from us those 
beneficent offices, which we cannot immediately perform 
to himself. Hence it comes to pass, that next to the 
love of our Creator, our most important duty is to seek 
each other's welfare, and in this way to give the most 
acceptable proof both of our piety and benevolence. 

Our subject, in review, furnishes a strong argument 
for the truth and divinity of the Bible. The Scriptures 
harmonize with sober reason in making love to God the 
first duty of religion, and in assigning the second rank to 
right affection and conduct towards men. In this point 
Christianity essentially differs from, and infinitely excels, 
all other systems. The pagan, mahometan, and popish 
religions lay the main stress on ceremonial observances ; 
while modern infidel philosophy, being compelled, by 
the light and influence of revelation, to abandon the ab- 
surd and foul superstitions of ancient systems, has erect- 
ed a partial and external morality on the ruins of piety ; 
it has expunged both the inward and outward worship 
of Deity from the catalogue of human duties . C hristiani- 
ty alone steers a safe and middle course between these 
fatal extremes. It comprises the whole of virtue in the 
love of God and our neighbour. It makes substantial 



Ser. XIV.] OF MERCY TO SACRIEICE. 175 

beneficence to the latter the best fruit and evidence of 
our regard to the former. When we compare the gos- 
pel in this particular with the best efforts of human rea- 
son, we are constrained to regard it, as the offspring of 
divine wisdom and benevolence. 

Hence secondly, our doctrine suggests -an easy an- 
swer to one of the most plausible and common objections 
against revealed religion. It is often objected by free- 
thinkers, that the Bible is a superstitious, fanatical, and 
contemptible book, because it enjoins so many religious 
ceremonies, which in themselves are unmeaning and 
useless. But such persons should consider that this 
same book holds up substantial piety and morality, as 
the end and crown of all these ritual observances. 
They should also consider, that in the present state of 
human nature, the love and practice of moral goodness 
can neither be duly expressed, securedj nor Joromoted, 
without some outward forms of religious worship and 
instruction. But reason and fact assure us, that the 
numerous ceremonies enjoined on the ancient Jews were 
of essential importance to preserve that gross and in- 
tractable nation in the faith and service of the true God, 
and the consequent practice of strict, uncorrupted virtue- 
It is equally manifest, that the regular observance of the 
Christian Sabbath and its public ordinances is highly 
important to the interests of practical religion and 
morality. We may add, the objection before us im- 
peaches the wisdom of all nations and ages, in appoint- 
ing visible symbols and rites, as seals and memorials of 
important civil transactions and events. If America has 
acted a wise and useful part in commemorating the birth 
of her independence, or the nativity and death of her 
most distinguished patriot; it must surely be equally 
proper and beneficial for Christians to celebrate their dy^ 



i?A f H^ mVINE PREFERENCE [Ssft. XIV. 

ing arid risen Redeemer, and to attend those stated pub- 
lic memorials and instructions, which remind them of 
the great moral duties they owe to him and one another. 
Those^ who ridicule Christianity on this ground, instead 
of showing a correct and liberal mind, or any real friends 
$hip to moral virtue, prove themselves strangers to both. 
Hence thirdly, our subject condemns all those, who 
make a separation between devotion and morality, or 
who exalt one on the ruins of the other. There are 
ftiany nominal Christians, who seem to place the whole 
of religion in orthodox Mth, pious feeling, or devout 
external forms ; while they overlook, or perhaps despise 
the moral duties of the gospel, and can hardly endure 
those preachers, by w^hom they are frequently enforced. 
The religion of this class of men, instead of making 
them good members of domestic, civil, and Christian 
society, often renders them selfish and unfeeling, proud 
and censorious, contentious and unmerciful. But such 
persons should consider that true piety is an unfailing 
spring of moral goodness ; that the main proof and glo- 
ry of it consist in the steady love and practice of those 
virtues, which assimilate human nature to the divine ; 
or which render men like God in justice and truth, in 
acti's^, universal benevolence. They should consider, 
that the most strict and zealous attendance on religious 
ordinances is useful and acceptable only, as it expresses 
and promotes the love of God and our neighbour ; and 
that the best evidence of this love, both to ourselves and 
to the world, is a temper and life devoted to the general 
good. In short, as faith without works, so prayers with- 
out alms, and good feelings without virtuous actions, are 
essentially defective, in the sight of omniscient purity. 
Let such persons further consider, what solemn import- 
ance and dignity the Bible has conferred on moral du- 



Seft. XIV.] OF MERCY TO SACRIHCE. 177 

ties, by ranking them higher than the immediate wor- 
ehip of God himself. That infinite Being, who justly 
merits and strictl}'^ requires our private and public hom- 
age ; who in ancient times condemned to instant death 
the man, who profaned his Sabbath ; has yet expressly 
directed that his own sacred worship shall give place to 
needful offices of kindness to his rational, yea eve» to 
liis inierior creatures ! How then can any flatter them- 
selves that they are serving and pleasing God, while they 
are habitually unkind to their fellow-men, or even to the 
brutal creation, however religious they may seem to be ! 
But there is an opposite description of men, who in- 
sist that morality is the whole of religion ; that works of 
justice and charity are the only duties, which possess 
any worth or utility ; and that the performance of thes» 
will certainly entitle them to the favour of God and the 
happiness of heaven. But this opinion is condemned by 
the whole current of Scripture as well, as by the clear- 
est dictates of reason. That God ought to be worship, 
ped, is a natural and uniform sentiment of the human 
mind. Both the law and gospel echo this sentiment. 
Our blessed Saviour, who was our perfect exemplar, 
constantly united devotion with charity. He strictly ob- 
served the ceremonies of the Mosaic law. Will any 
pretend that their knowledge and virtue place them 
above the need of those ordinances, which are sanction- 
ed both by the example and authority of Christ himself? 
Will they arrogantly say, that their moral attainments 
are greater, or their sentiments more correct, than his ? 
If He thought an attendance on religious institutions nec- 
essary to show a due regard to the divine authority, to 
complete his own moral character, and to influence 
others to such attendance by the weight of his example ; 
does it not equally become imperfect men, of whatever 



178 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE, Sec. [Ser. XIV. 

description, to conduct on the same principles? Can a 
person be a truly moral man, who does not obey eiiery 
diving command ? who does not reverence and worship 
his Maker, a Being of infinite moral excellence? Can 
that man be steadily just and faithful to his fellow crea- 
tures from a sense of duty, who is unjust and disobedient 
to his Creator and Redeemer ? Can he be qualified to 
serve and enjoy God forever in his temple above, who 
takes no pleasure in worshipping him here below ? 

May divine grace impress these solemn hints on each 
of our hearts ! May we all be instructed to unite mercy 
and sacrifice, the social and divine virtues in our charac- 
ters here, that we may be fitted for the perfect exercises 
and pleasures of worship and charity in the kingdom of 
heaven. 



©etmon xv. 



On Christian Hope. 

1 John iii. 3. 

Eiiery inatiy that hath this hope in him^ purifieth him' 
self^ even as he is pure. 

J- HE apostle in this chapter endeavours to comfort 
and inflame his fellow Christians, by setting before them 
the transcendent greatness of God's love, and the ex- 
cellency of those privileges, which accrue to them from 
it. ' ' Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestow- 
ed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God !" 
-This wonderful privilege of being the children of God, 
is granted to, and enjoyed by the saints, even in the 
present life ; " Beloved, now are Vv^e the sons of God. '^ 
But still greater privileges are reserved for their future 
enjoyment ; "for we know that when he shall appear, 
we shall be like him ; for we shall see him as he is.'' 
What a sublime and comforting prospect ! A prospect 
which, though its object be future and distant, conveys 
a good degree of present animation and fruition, through 
the anticipating influence of Christian hope. Even the 
remote view or expectation of such a felicity gives more 
delight and satisfaction, than the present enjoyment of 
the highest sublunary good. 

At the same time, this hope of heavenly glory, far 
from lulling its possessor into indolent security, or en- 
couraging him to carnal and forbidden indulgence, is the 
most powerful and constraining incentive to dutv. 

EC 



180 ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. [Ssr. Ht. 

** He that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself, even 
as He is pure." While his supreme desire and expec- 
tation centre in the future fceatific vision and likeness of 
his Lord, he feels himself incited to resemble him as 
much as possible, and thus to make the nearest ap- 
proaches to, and the best preparation for his expected 
felicity. 

When the Christian is said to purify himself^ the 
idea is, tliat he acts in this affair as a dependent, subor- 
dinate agent ; that he is a worker with and under God ; 
that havin,^ received an habitual principle of holiness 
Srom the Spirit of grace, he, by the concurring aid of the 
same Spirit, diligently exerts this principle, or improves 
this talent, in a steady course of virtuous and useful 
conduct. 

When the believer is further described as purifying 
himself, e^uen as Christ is pure ; the phrase eijen as 
denotes a resemblance in kind,, not an equality in de- 
gree. It imports that the expectant of future glory pos- 
sesses, and studiously cultivates, the same love and 
meekness, the same pure and heavenly dispositions, the 
same spirit of submission, conformity, and obedience to 
God, Vrhich were perfectly exemplified in Jesus his 
master ; though he never does nor can reach that ar- 
dour and strength of virtue, which appeai'ed in this di- 
vine Exemplar. Thus, in the natural body, the same 
vital fluid, in kind, which dv^ells and flows in the head, 
pervades all the inferior members ; though in the former 
it may be accompanied with more refined and vigorous 
spirits. Though we should grant that the Christian 
hope prompts an earnest pursuit of the same degree of 
purity, which the Saviour possesses ; yet this would 
not infer the complete success of such pursuit ; for the 
best imitation of tiie feeble copyist can never equal 
the absolute perfection of the origiucd. 



sbr. xv.3 on christian hope. ISl 

The great object of the ensuing discourse will be, to 
ilhistrate and confirm the purifying efficacy of the Cluis- 
tian hope. In order to which, it may be useful, in the 
first place, to state more pai^ticularly, what is included 
in the work of self purification, here ascribed to the 
hoping believer. 

Now as all purification imports the removal of defile- 
ment ; so this expression, in the moral or evangelical 
sense, signifies deliverance from the pollution of sin. 
With regard to the defiling power of sin in the heart, 
this must be gradually destroyed by repeated exercises 
of penitential sorrow for it ; by a vigilant prevention of 
the overt acts, and., as far as possible, of the invrai'd 
motions of it in future ; by frequent and strict inquiry 
into the state of our minds with respect to sin and holi" 
ness; by planting our strongest guard against constitu- 
tional or favourite vices ; by keeping our bodily senses 
and appetites under a constant and severe regulation ; 
by cherishing habitual regards to Christ and the peculiar 
discoveries of his gospel ; and finally, by calling down 
succours from above by earnest and continual prayer. 

As the prayer of a sincere and contrite heart is the ap- 
pointed medium of obtaining sanctifying influences from 
Heaven, so it has an efl^cacy in its ver}^ nature to purify 
and exalt the soul. For it awakens and increases in our 
minds a sense of the majesty and goodness, the purity 
and presence of God ; and dius strengthens our im- 
pression of the evil of sin, and of the beauty and obliga- 
tion of holiness. It multiplies and enhances our en- 
gagements and motives to avoLd iniquity, to resist 
temptation, and to practise dut}^ Thus it extinguishes 
vicious inclinations, increases the tenderness and force 
of conscience, improves our relish for devout and spir- 
itual exercises and entertainments, our zeal and vigour 



182 6K CHRISTIAN HOPE. [S^R. XV. 

in the cause of virtue, and our endeavours to obtain a 
temper and behaviour corresponding to our prayers. 

Having thus viewed the Christian purifying himself 
as God is pure, let us now attend to the happy efficacy 
of his hope in promoting this moral purity. That the 
hope of the gospel believer must have this salutary in- 
fluence appears. 

First, From the nature of its object* The gi*eat object 
of the Christbn's hope is eternal happiness in the perfect 
vision, likeness, and consequent fruition of his God and 
Redeemer. He expects, when his Lord shall appear, 
to be like him both in holiness and blessedness ; because 
he shall then see him, as he is. 

Now the hope of such a pure and elevated happiness 
directly implies, and promotes a temper of heart, cor- 
responding with the object in view. It implies such a 
temper, because the very nature of hope involves love to 
jsome absent good, joined to the cordial, pleasing desire 
and expectation of ere long possessing it. It therefore 
supposes a disposition of mind conformed or attemper- 
ed to this good : otherwise the mind could not expect 
it with pleasing emotions, but would regard it with in- 
difference or aversion ; that is, instead of hoping, it 
would rather dread its arrival. Consequently, the hope 
of completely resembling God hereafter implies a sin- 
cere love and conformity to him at present, producing 
an ardent, expecting, joyful desire of shordy awaking in 
his perfect likeness. The hope of seeing Christ, as he isy 
at his second coming, implies some affectionate, assimi- 
lating, and delightful views of his glory and love, in the 
present state, inspiring fervent aspirations after the fu- 
ture beatific vision. 

This hope likewise directly promotes moral purity as 
w^ell, as implies it. For while the expecting Christian 



S«K. XV.l ON CHRItlAN HOPE- 1^3 

beholds and anticipates the approaching glorj- of Christ 
and heaven, he will insensibly catch the image of that 
glory ; his heart will receive a more full impression of 
its admired object ; and thus \\ ill become more pure 
and heavenly, in proportion to the vigour and frequent 
exercise of its Christian hope. His desire and expecta- 
tion of such a holy felicity will likewise engage his assid- 
uous culture of those moral quaUties, which must pre- 
pare him for it ; which alone can dispose, invigorate, 
and exalt his mind for the sublime employment and 
bliss of heaven. 

A previous and confirmed habit of moral purity must 
qualify us to enjoy, and even to support the future pres- 
ence and glory of God ; to relish and delight in the 
moral beauty and harmony of his perfections, and to be- 
hold the smiles of liis approving lace. The subject of 
an earthly sovereign, who desires and expects to be ad- 
vanced into his master's palace, to converse and live in 
the royal presence, will studiously adorn and fit himself 
for such an elevation. David, in the twenty-fourth 
psalm, proposes and answers this momentous question ; 
" Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord ? Who 
shall stand in his holy place ? He that hath clean hands 
and a pure heart." 

Were it possible for us to enter heaven without holi- 
ness, instead of being a seat of happiness, it would be 
to us a state of disgust, mortification, and torment ; be- 
cause nothing in it would suit our vicious and carnal 
propensities. None but the pure in heart can derive 
any blessedness from seeing God. To those of an op- 
posite character, the sight and presence of infinite purity 
must be a source of painful aversion, confusion, and 
horror. A genuine hope, therefore, of so refined a 
felicity must stir up its possessor to purify himself, as 



ISi ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. [Ser. XV. 

Christ is pure ; that in this way he may be qualified for 
the expected joys of his immediate presence. 

Again. Christian hohness here is the appointed con- 
ditto?! or mean of future blessedness. It is indispensa- 
bly required by the positive constitution of God as well, 
as by the very nature of the thing. Now the reasonable 
hope of a desired end is ever grounded upon, and leads J 
to, a vigorous use of the means, which are necessar}% * 
or conducive to the attainment of it. None but ^ mad- 
man will hope to reap without sowing, or will sow one 
kind of seed, and expect a harvest of another. If we 
sow tares, we cannot, without the greatest absurdity, 
expect to reap tlie finest of the wheat. In like manner, 
if we sow the seeds of vanity and sin in this life, which 
is the spring of our existence, we must expect a corres- 
ponding harvest of confirmed depravit}^, disappoint- 
ment, and iiiin in the next. There is no reaping life ever- 
lasting, without previously sowing to the Spirit, or living 
a spiritual and holy life ; and therefore a scriptural hope of 
everlasting happiness is ever connected with such a life, 
and powerfully quickens its subjects to persevere and im- 
prove in it. Which suggests another idea, viz. that as 
Christian purity is the great and only evidence of our title 
to heaven, the hope of it must not only depend upon our 
having this evidence, but must engage us to preserve it in 
a clear, satisfying, and advancing state. As we should 
esteem that man a presumptuous fool, who hoped to in- 
herit an estate, to ^vhich he could show no title ; so it 
is equally foolish to hope for the heavenly inheritance, 
unless we can support our claim to it by the grand 
charter of the gospel. But we cannot prove this, either 
in the court of conscience or of heaven, but by the pu^ 
rity of our hearts and lives. No one can rationally sat- 
isfy himself, that he is an heir of God and joint heir 



Ser. XV.] ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. 185 

with Jesus Christ to future glory, unless he can prove 
himself a child of God ; for if children., then heirs. But 
he cannot prove himself a child, unless he exhibit in 
his temper and conduct the image and spirit of his heav- 
enly Father, or the peculiar dispositions which become 
his children ; that is, unless he manifest a spirit of filial 
love and reverence, submission and imitation. A good 
hope, then, must be founded on satisfactory evidence of 
real holiness, and must awaken earnest and unceasing 
endeavours after still higher measures of it. 

Again, this hope constrains the soul to purify itself 
from motives of pious gratitude. For surely if I ex- 
pect so great and free a gift as eternal life from a Being, 
who might justly have doomed me to eternal death ; 
every principle of ingenuity, equity, and honour, must 
engage me thankfully to devote my short life to his ser- 
vice ! Shall I, can I go on to affront and defy him, by 
whose grace I hope to be saved ? Can I expect the ac- 
complishment of all his exceeding great and precious 
promises to such a vile worm as myself, and yet contin- 
ue to trample upon the righteous laws and infinite ben- 
efits of so great and merciful a Sovereign ? Can I insult 
that goodness, from which I expect everlasting blessed- 
ness ? Can I hope to live and reign in glory with my 
exalted Redeemer, who was crucified on earth, that I 
might be glorified with him in heaven ? Can I hope for 
this, and yet crucify this Redeemer afresh, by indulg- 
ing those sins, which nailed him to the cross ? Does he 
demand no other return from me for his expensive love, 
than the constant study and practice of holiness, which 
is as much my privilege, as my duty ; and can I refuse 
him so small a requital ; a service so easy, so proper, 
and so happy for myself? Surely they, who can act so 
base a part, have not the generous spirit and hope of 



ISO ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. [Ser. Xt^, 

Chi'istians, but are lost to common ingenuity. Every 
true friend of Christ and heir of his salvation is con- 
strained by his redeeming love, and by that affectionate 
hope and consequent gratitude, vvhich are enkindled by 
it, to live, not to himself, but to him who died for him, 
and rose again. 

I might add, that beside the moral or argumentative 
inSuence of Christian hope, in the respects now men- 
tioned, upon the character of its subject, it has likewise 
a natural efficacy to sanctify the heart and life. For it is 
one of the gi'aces of that Holy Spirit, and of that heav- 
enly religion, v.hose whole design and tendency are to 
purify and exalt our degenerate nature. Consequently, 
the hope of the gospel as well, as all its other virtues, is 
essentially holy, both in its nature and effect, and there- 
fore must gradually root out the remains of sin, and 
carry forward the opposite interest in its happy posses- 
sor. Christian hope is also immediately connected with^ 
evangelical faith, both as it direcdy springs from it, and 
bears a striking resemblance to it ; and of course the 
same pure and noble fruits, w^hich Scripture and expe- 
rience ascribe to the latter, may with equal reason be 
predicated of the former. 

Our subject leads us to reflect on the excellency of 
the Christian religion, not only in bringing life and 
immortality to light, but in giving such a rational and 
sublime view of future happiness, and rendering the 
hope of it such an eminent instrument and support as 
well, as fruit and solace of virtue. Thus tlie very 
privileges and comforts as well, as requirements, of the 
gospel, directly tend to sanctify our hearts, and raise 
them to their true perfection and felicity. How worthy 
is such a system of a holy and benevolent Deity ! How 
friendly to the present and final \^ elfare of man ! 



Ser.XV.] on christian hope. 187 

Our subject presents a certain criterion, by which to 
try our hopes of heaven. We all, I suppose, profess to 
be candidates and ex; Tctants of future glory. But 
what are the grounds, properties, and effects of our 
hope? Is it built upon, and productive of, inward and 
practical holiness ? Or is it accompanied with security, 
sloth, and sinful gratification ? If the latter, our hope 
and our pretended religion, are mere absurdity, mock- 
er}', and delusion. For is it not repu gnant to sober 
reason to hope for salvation, when our very hope is of 
such a nature and influence, as to prove us heirs of de- 
struction ? Can that hope originate from, and lead yoa 
to heaven, which has nothing heavenly in its nature- and 
operation, but every thing the reverse ? How inexpres- 
sibly foolish is it, to expect a holy happiness without a 
holy disposition ! To expect to be finally glorious in tlie 
eyes of the Lord, when our prevailing character is un- 
like and contrary to his ! To look for complete and end- 
less satisfaction in the presence, service, and enjoy- 
ment of a Being, whom we habitually dislike, and 
whose laws of fellowship are our greatest burden and 
aversion ! To expect to find our eternal happiness and 
delight in those spiritual exercises and entertainments, 
which are entirely opposite to our present determined 
pursuits and established increasing propensities ! 

Is it not equally absurd and impious to hope for di- 
vine forgiveness and acceptance, w ithout a heart-purify- 
ing faith in, and vital union to, Christ ? To expect to be 
spai'ed by that patience, which we continue to provoke, 
and to be finally embraced by that mercy, which we re- 
solve to abuse ? To propose to live the life of the wick- 
ed, and yet die the death of the righteous ? To live in a 
worldly, proud, unchristian manner, and then die like 
holy, humble, heavenly Christians ? To hope for victory 
rf 



188 0]^f CHRISTIAIVJ HOPE. t^ER-^V- 

over sin and temptation by lazy wishes, without earnest 
struggles against it ? And to enter in at the strait gate, 
without striving and agonizing for it ! How absurd to 
profess a belief of the Bible, and yet hope for happiness 
without, yea, contrary to scriptural grounds ! to expect 
the end without the appointed means ! Yea, in the 
use of methods, which contradict and defeat it I Such 
hopes as these, not only imply the liiad expectation of 
absolute impossibilities, but also the impious presump- 
tion, that God will prove false to himself, to his own 
essential attributes and declared constitution, for the 
sake of honouring, and saving us in our perverse 
and rebellious dispositions ! 

Let those, who have hitherto cherished such infatu- 
ated, Vvicked, and ruinous hopes, be entreated immedi- 
ately to abandon them ; or else they, and their delusive 
expectations will soon perish together in the pit of de- 
struction ; for what is the hope of the hypocrite, when 
God shall take away his soul ! But if we possess the 
purifying^ hope above described, let us rejoice in it, 
bless God for it, walk worthy of it, hold it fast unto the 
end, and under its enlivening influence press forward to 
still higher degrees of Christian purity, confidence, and 
joy. Dearly beloved, having such precious promises 
as the ground and object of our elevated hopes, ** Let 
lis cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and 
spirit, perfecting holmess in the fear of God*'* 



®crmon xvi. 
The Christian Pattern. 

Phil. ii. 5. 
Zet this mind be in you^ ijjhich was also in Christ Jesus. 

X HE Christian religion has this unspeakable advantage 
above all other systems, that it holds out a perfect mod- 
el of virtue in the life of its Founder; a model, which 
fully exemplifies and enforces his excellent doctrines and 
precepts ; which exhibits at once the express image and 
glory of God, and a safe and complete directory for the 
conduct of man ; and agreeably, one main object of 
Christ's appearing in our nature, and living in our 
world, wa3 to mark out by his life as well, as by his in- 
structions, the path to immortality. 

The apostle in the text and following verses patheti- 
cally urges upon Christians a studious imitation of this 
glorious pattern, particularly in the amiable virtues of 
love and meekness, of humility and condescensionu 
Accordingly, I shall take occasion to illustrate and en- 
force the great duty of copying the spirit and life of our 
blessed Master. 

The first inquiiy, which this passage suggests, is, in 
what respects is Christ an example to his followers ? 
The answer is, He is our pattern in those things only, 
which are common to him and us. He is not an object 
of imitation in those things, which were peculiar to 
him, as the Son of God and Redeemer of the w orld ; 
nor did he exemplify those duties, which result from 



106 THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. [Sek. XVL 

our peculiar situation, as sinful and redeemed creatures ; 
such as repentance of sin, and faith in the divine mercy 
through a Mediator. But Christ is our exemplar in all 
those right dispositions and actions, which belong to hu- 
man nature in its uncorrupted state, and to which it is 
gradually recovered by gospel faith and repentance. 
We are therefore bound to imitate him in all those mor- 
al excellencies, which he exhibited, as a subject of that 
law, of those relations and circumstances, which were 
common to him and us. In these particulars he is a 
pattern admirably fitted to guide and encourage our 
imitation. For 

First, He possessed the same nature, and was placed 
in the same condition with ourselves ; and his example, 
therefore, being human, exhibits to us the same kind of 
virtues, practised in the same manner, and under similar 
circumstances of difficulty and temptation, as belong to 
ourselves ; and thus naturally affects our minds with a 
far more insinuating and engaging force, than different 
instances of virtue or even the same, in a difTerent nature. 
In this view the example of perfect angels or even of the 
Deity could not be so suitable, so complete, or so en- 
couraging to us ; it could not enforce those duties, which 
are proper to embodied and imperfect, to guilty and re- 
deemed creatures. But Christ was in all things made 
like unto us, sin only excepted ; he was subject to the 
same infirmities and passions, to the same troubles and 
temptations as well, as to the same general ties of duty. 
His example also takes in a very great compass of virtue. 
It is so wonderfully ordered, as either directly to exem- 
plify, or strikingly to enforce the duties of almost every 
station and relation of human life. Filial piety towards 
both his earthly parents and his heavenly Father shone in 
his early and private life. He condescended to teach 



Ser.XVI.] the christian pattern. 191 

US contentment and industry in our various secular call- 
ings, however moan and laborious, by foilowini^ the me- 
chanical employment of his reputed father. By submit- 
ting to a poor, dependent, and suflering mode of life, 
and ever feeling and behaving suitably to k, he has ren- 
dered his example exceedinglj^ precious and useful to 
the bulk of mankind, ^^hom Providence places in a low- 
ly or trying condition. On the other hand, his volun- 
tary debasement of himself from his original dignity and 
riches to a poor and servile state, affords the most affect- 
ing lessons of humility, condescension, and self denial 
to the wealth}' and honourable. By his gentle, dis- 
creet, yet authoritative government of his own family 
of disciples, bv carrying the same wisdom and authority 
into all his public ministrations, and thus holding both 
the people and their rulers in awe, he gave instructive 
hints of the true spirit and model of government in do- 
mestic, civil, and sacred departments. Though he 
could not literally exemplify the conjugal and parent- 
al duties, because he never sustained these relations ; 
yet he is really our example here to the greatest advan- 
tage, on account of that spiritual relation of husband and 
father to the church, which he fills \\ith corresponding 
affections and acts. In a word, his conversation was so 
free, so open, and affable ; it presen-ed such a happ} 
medium between affected singularity and unlimited 
compliance, betvveen rigorous austerity. and unbecom- 
ing levity, as rendered it at once very endearing, and 
admirably fitted for general imitation. 

The notoriety of his example like\\'ise greatly hicreas- 
es its utility. Not only were the leading traits of his 
character conspicuously displayed in the country where 
he lived ; not only were his principal actions and discoin^^. 
ses performed before great numbers of witnesses; ^"^'•" 



1^2 THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. [Ser. XVJ. 

his exeellent life is exhibited to all future ages in authen- 
tic and inspired narratives, whose artless, open, unaf- 
fected manner admirably resembles the beautiful simpli- 
city of character, which distinguished the subject of 
their history. 

Finally, The absolute perfection of Christ's example 
forms its crowning excellence. His whole temper 
and conduct from his birth to his death were pure 
from the least riioral defect: they in no instance 
fell short of the utmost demand of the moral law, 
or the perfect moral rectitude and dignity of human na- 
tiu'e. Far from this, the excellency of his obedience 
was greatly enhanced by his trials and sufferings, be- 
yond that which the primitive state of man could ad- 
mit. While his unblameable life, his entire exemption 
from guile, both in heart, conversation and behaviour, 
his total separation from sin and sinners, instruct us to 
abstain even from the appearance of evil ; his careful 
fulfilment of all righteousness teaches and animates us 
to do well, to perform every duty to God, our neigh- 
bour, and ourselves, in the most exact, engaged, and 
exemplary manner. In short, his example being equal- 
ly perfect with the divine law, becomes a safe, easy, and 
complete rule of duty to his followers ; a rule, which 
warrants and demands their implicit and constant regard. 

The usefulness of such a perfect example appears 
from its tendency to impress mankind with the reasona- 
bleness of the divine law in all its requirements, and to 
guard them against light or indulgent thoughts of any 
deviations from it. Had no example appeared in our 
world of obedience fully equal to the law of our nature, 
men would too readily have concluded that the law was 
originally set too high for such a creature as man; they 
would have satisfied themselves with ahuing at less than 



See. XVr.] THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. 193 

perfection ; they would too easily have indulged many 
sins, as the harmless and unavoidable infirmities of hu- 
manity. But the example of Jesus in our nature, yield- 
ing a complete obedience to this law, \\ipes away this as- 
persion both from the nature of man and the law of 
God, by practically evincing that the former was origin, 
dly capacitated and destined for perfect virtue, and that 
the latter lies exactly level with this unperverted capaci- 
ty ; and of course that every transgression of this rule is 
without excuse. 

This benefit of Christ's example is enhanced by the 
divinity of his person. ** Though he were a Son, yet 
he learned obedience," Though he was originally 
in the form of God, yet by condescending to assume our 
nature he voluntarily subjected himself to its duties, and 
placed his greatest glory and happiness in performing 
the most exact obedience to the w ill of God. While 
his human nature was the direct and principal subject of 
this obedience, it derived a transcendent value and dig- 
nity from the intimate union of the man Jesus with the 
divinity. At the same time his stooping from his orig- 
inal dignity to a state of subjection to his Father's law, 
recommends obedience to it in the most forcible manner. 
In this way, as one expresses it, ** God has glorified a 
state of obedience to himself." 

We may add, the alacrit}^ and serenity w^hich our Lord 
expressed through the whole course of his life, amid so ma- 
ny laborious and selfdenying services, gi'eatly recommend 
his example to our imitation, by showing that the most 
strict, and even suffering virtue is consistent with self en- 
joyment ; yea, is a rich source of inward happiness. The 
consciousness of obeying and pleasing his Father, the as- 
surance and enjoyment of his constant presence and sup- 
port, the glorious recompense and joy set before him 
sweetened all the toils and difficulties of virtue, 



194 THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. [Ser. XVL 

snd iTLide the service of God his daily meat and drink. 
What an alhiring charm does such an example give to 
a life of seh^-denying and holy obedience 1 

Having stated in what respects Christ is a pattern to 
us, and pointed out the eminent fitness and utility of his 
example J we will now more particularly enforce the du- 
ty and importance of our imitatnig this perfect exemplar. 

1. Our obligation to this results from one important 
pait of Christ's errand into our world. While the first 
and chief object of his mission was to mediate between 
God and man, by making atonement to the one for the 
sins of the other ; it was a collateral and essential branch 
of his undertaking to provide for the sanctification of 
men at the same time, and through the same means, by 
which he procured their forgiveness. The same spot- 
less obedience, by vi^'hich he merited and secured the jus- 
tification of penitent believers, is the great pattern, the 
efiectual incentive and security of their personal holiness. 
That this was a leading object of his life, appears front 
the great care taken to record his actions with so much 
particularity by the pens of four different historians. 
This design is also frequently and directly expressed by 
ihe sacred writers. Thus St. Paul represents the c'o72- 
jormity of Christians to the image of God's SoUy as 
comprising all those blessings of grace and glory, to 
which infinite mercy has predestinated them. As God 
has formed the human nature of his Son to be a fit mod- 
el of excellence and perfection to his saints ; so he forms 
all the vessels of rnercy, all the heirs of glory in a good 
degree after this model; that by thus partaking of 
Christ's holiness they may be prepared for a final parti- 
cipation of his blessedness. Does not this infer a strong 
obligation on all professed Christians to co-operate with 
God and his Son in this noble design ; and of coanie to: 



Ser. XVI.] THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. 195 

keep the perfect character of Jesus constantly in their 
eye, and to study the nearest possible resemblance to it? 
How vain will it be for any to expect the benefits of his 
death, who have no conformity to his life ; since both 
united form one indivisible plan of salvation, and since 
our very name or calling, as Christians, is resolved into 
this conformity to Christ, as our head ? Agreeably, St. 
Peter in the verse of our text says, '' Hereunto are ye 
called, that ye should follow his steps :" and oar Lord 
himself tells his disciples in the thirteenth of John, *' I 
have given you an example, that ye should do, as I have 
done to you." Which brings us to observe, 

Secondly, That imitation of Christ is often explicitly 
enjoined and pressed upon his professed disciples. 
How frequently does he propose following him, as the 
great condition and mark of discipleship 1 How often 
does he recommend particular parts as well, as the 
whole of virtue, as fully exemplified in himself! " Take 
my yoke upon you," that yoke which I have first borne 
myself, previously to my imposing it on you ; " and 
leai'n of me, fori am meek and lowly in heart." He 
also repeatedly commands them to love one another, 
even as he loved them. Several general and particular 
exhortations to the same pui^ose occur in the epistles."* 
Thus the same divine authority, which enjoins universal 
holiness upon us, prescribes the imitation of Jesus as 
itself a constant duiy, as a stated and necessaiy part of 
our religion, and a great instrument of our moral perfec- 
tion. The primary gospel duty, which enlivens and 
rectifies all others, is a desifj-ned and studious conformi- 
ty to Jesus Christ in all those things, which constitute 

* See Rom. xv. 5. Plul. il. 5. 1 Pet. iv. 1. 

eg 



196 THE CHRISTIA^f PATTERN. [Ser. XVL 

the moral image of God and perfection of man. While 
all other examples are proposed to our imitation in a re- 
strictive and occasional manner only ; his is set before 
us as our ultimate and infallible model, which at once 
limits and controls all other patterns and rules, and chal- 
lenges our supreme and constant attention. Agreeably, 
St. Paul exhorts the Corinthians to be followers of him 
so far only, as he was of Christ ; and after he has pointed 
out to the Hebrews a great cloud of other witnesses, 
directs them to centre their views on Christ ; * ^ looking, '^' 
that is, principally and continually " looking to Jesus, 
the author and finisher of our faith." 

Thirdly. The relations between Christ and all true 
Christians bind this duty upon them. He is their Lord 
and Master, who has both completely taught and ex- 
emplified their duty, and in this respect excelled all 
other masters and teachers. Does not this oblige us 
to excel all other disciples, in imitating our master ? 
Are the pupils of other doctors zealous to follow their 
peculiar directions and manners, however Avhimsical or 
even culpable ? And shall not we be much more engag- 
ed to follow the perfect doctrine and example of our 
divine Instructer? Is he also our best friend and bene- 
factor ? Does he call and treat us as his brethren, his 
children, the members of his body ? And shall not we^ 
by a grateful and studious resemblance of him, adorn 
and fill these endearing and honourable relations ? Ought 
there not to be a beautiful likeness, symmetry, and cor- 
respondence between the head and members of the same 
body ? How unseemly and monstrous would it be, if 
like Nebuchadnezzar's image, w^hile the head is of pure 
gold, some of the members should be no better than 
" miry clay !" 



SER.XVL] THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. 197 

Fourthly, This conformity to Jesus is the natural 
tendency and result of all Christian graces, and of 
course is necessary to prove their sincerity. Can we 
heartily believe in Christ, or realize the spiritual beauty 
.and glory of his character, \vithout being changed into 
the same image, without springing forward \^ith holy 
emulation to transcribe his excellent qualities ? Can we 
heartily acquiesce and trust in his mediatorial righteous- 
ness, as the ground of our justification, without seeing 
the beauty and glory of this righteousness,, as magnify^ 
ing and honouring God's perfections and few, and being 
cordially pleased, and conformed to it ? Can we truly 
rely on Christ to save us from sin and its threatened 
punishment, without joining with him in heartily con- 
demning the former, and justifying the latter? Havje 
Ave a believing hope of spiritual and eternal blessings to 
be dispensed through Christ to us, in conformity to the 
grace and glory, w^hich are in him ? Will not this hope 
engage us to purify ourselves, even as he is pure ; that 
so we may be both qualified for, and entitled to the 
expected felicity? Finally, who does not know that 
love has an assimilating influence ? And will it not have 
the greater energy here, as the love of Christ to us led 
him in the first place to conform himself to our degrad- 
ed and miserable state, that he might conform us to his 
own glory and blessedness ? Must not grateful affection 
on our part produce corresponding returns ? Must it 
not prompt our best efforts to copy so briglit and en- 
dearing a pattern ? 

Fifthly. The honour of our religion and its great 
Author is deeply concerned in this matter. If the pro- 
fessors of Christianity practically contradict the holy ex- 
ample of its Founder, they essentially injure not only 
theniselves, but their profession. If they are habitually 



193 THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN^. [Ser. XVI. 

proud, revengeful, covetous, unjust, intemperate, or un- 
godly ; the world will be apt to view their religion and 
Master as patronizing or fostering these vices. If we 
have the generous spirit of Christians, we cannot willingly 
contribute to such vile imputations on the best religion 
and Master in the world. On the contrary, we shall feel a 
tender and earnest solicitude, that the excellent spirit and 
life of our absent Lord may still shine forth to the ad- 
miration of the world, in the corresponding temper and 
practice of his followers, and that thus the honour and 
influence of his name and gospel may be preserved and 
extended through all countries and generations. As 
nothing has hindered the universal propagation of 
Christianity so much, as the unchristian spirit and man- 
ners of those individuals and public bodies, who profess 
this religion ; so nothing would contribute so powerful- 
ly to honour the gospel, and extend its triumph, as a 
striking moral resemblance in its professors to the ex- 
ample of their Head. 

IMPROVEMENT. 

1. If Christ was so perfect a pattern of virtue, his 
pretensions to a divine mission must have been founded 
in truth. For it is highly absurd and contradictory 
to suppose, that a person of so excellent a character 
should practise the most impious and cruel fraud in the 
name of the God of truth and love, or that a series of 
such pure and noble actions, as are recorded of Jesus, 
should proceed from a vile and abandoned impostor. 
Besides^ our Saviour's extraordinary pretensions and ac- 
tions are supported by the same evidence as his amiable 
moral virtues : to profess therefore, as many deists do, 
an admiration of the latter, while we reject the former, is 
either very weak or hypocritical. 



Ser. XVI.] the christian pattern. 199 

2. Hence the main scope of the gospel is practical ; 
for it is intended to make us conformable to its 
Founder. 

3. Hence Christianity unspeakably excels all other 
religions ; since it exhibits a personal, visible, and com- 
plete representation of the invisible God, and a perfect 
pattern of virtue for man. 

4. How ought this to recommend to our studious 
attention the life of Jesus, as drawn by the evangelists ! 
With what diligence should we both contemplate and 
copy its excellencies ! How carefully should we exam- 
ine our tempers and lives by this standai'd ! We are to 
judge of our real Christianity, not by our orthodox no- 
tions, our former imaginary com^ersion or experiences, 
or our transient or periodical feelings, but by our steady 
practical imitation of Jesus ; for if any man have not 
the spirit of Christ, he is none of his. 



)ermon xvii. 



Religious Joy explained and recom- 
mended. 



Philippians iv. 4. 
Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I say, rejoice, 

HAT Christianity is a friend to human happiness, 
appears from numberless circumstances; particularly 
from this, that good men are so frequently invited and 
commanded to rejoice^ to exercise and cherish one of the 
most dehghtful affections of the soul. We must^ how- 
ever, remember, that the joy, which the Scriptures en- 
join, is of a peculiar kind ; such as the bulk of mankind 
neither know, desire, nor pursue. It is a joy in the 
Lord ; it has God for its object and source ; it springs 
from religious principles, exercises, and prospects ; it is 
one of the highest privileges as well, as duties of real 
Christians, as it equally expresses and improves both 
their holiness and happiness. 

In discoursing, therefore, on the pleasing aiidreiterat-. 
ed precept of the text, I will endeavour, 

L To explain, and 

11, To recommend and enforce it. 

In the first place, we will expjain the nature of rejoicr 
ing in the Lord. 

Now, in general, it imports a cordial acquiescence 
and delight in the divine character, government, and 
benefits. Holy joy is primarily founded on the essential 



ser. xvii]. religious joy. 201 

beauty and gloiy of the divine nature and attributes ; and 
implies a heartfelt satisfaction and triumph in contem- 
plating the existence, perfection, and dominion of 
Jehovah. 

The pious man rejoices in the existence of such a 
being as God. While he hears God saying in his 
word and works, " I am, and there is none beside me ;" 
his heart echoes its joyful amen : '* Lord, I beUeve, I 
see, I feel that thou art, and I exult in the belief. 
Could I once suppose, with some modern vain philos- 
ophers, that there is no first, self-existent, all perfect 
Being at the head of the universe, what a scene of dark- 
ness, and confusion, and wretchedness, would the face 
of the world exhibit ! All the charms of the visible 
heavens and earth would at once fade on my sight. But 
I see and feel myself surrounded with Deity. I see and 
admire God in the sun, moon, and stars, in every ob- 
ject and occurrence around me. In all his creatures 
and works, I have a bright and transporting view of his 
glorious existence." 

The pious heart is also unspeakably delighted with 
all the perfections of this infinite Being. When he hears 
God saying, " I am that I am," possessed of the most 
sublime, incommunicable, eternal perfection and bless- 
edness, his heart eagerly replies, " Lord, I sincerely re- 
joice in that fulness of glory and bliss, which resides in 
thy adorable essence, and thus in some degree participate 
and enjoy thy divine felicity. While I feel a benevo- 
lent and joyful interest in the derived, the scanty ex- 
cellence and happiness of my fellow creatures ; shall I 
not much more rejoice in my Creator, on account of 
his uncaused, his transcendent glory and blessedness ? 
Shall I not rejoice in the idea, that supreme wisdom and 
power, rectitude and goodness are continually adminis- 



202 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser, XVU. 

tering the affairs of the universe in the best possible man- 
ner, and overruhng its present partial evils and disor- 
ders to the final good of the system and glory of its 
Author?" 

Further, the true friend of God rejoices in all the 
manifestations of his excellent character and will. The 
heart, which loves and delights in the divine perfections, 
will desire and be pleased with the display, and the re- 
flected glory of these perfections. Hence the good man 
rejoices in the word of God, which is the most clear and 
perfect exhibition of his nature, counsels, and will. He 
discerns the characters of divinity in the volume of 
Scripture as well, as of nature ; in the sublime doctrines, 
the holy precepts, the precious promises, and majestic 
discoveries of the former as well, as in the admirable 
order and beauty, magnificence and utility of the latter. 
He therefore exclaims, *' Oh, how I love thy law ! It 
is my meditation day and night. I love to trace thy 
footsteps wherever I can find them. In the commands 
and sanctions of thy law, I see a bright transcript of thy 
moral excellencies, and a perfect rule to direct me how 
to serve and honour thee. In the peculiar truths of thy 
gospel I behold a still more complete as well, as more 
endearing display, of thy perfections and designs. In 
these I see, with mingled admiration and joy, a most 
wondeiful and eftectual method to recover thy degener- 
ate offspring to thine image and favour ; I rejoice in this 
scheme of salvation, because while it brings peace and 
good will to men, it proclaims glory to God in the high- 
est. I rejoice in Christ Jesus, the Gospel Saviour, be- 
cause he is the express image of the invisible God, and 
the peifect refulgence of his glory." 

On the same principle, the pious Christian delights in 
the ordinances and duties of religion, because they are 



See. XVII.3 RELIGIOUS JOY. 203 

the medium, by which he approaches, honours, and en- 
joys his heavenly Father. And while he thus rejoices 
in the present imperfect exercises of reUgion, as means 
of this divine communion ; he is equally delighted with 
the hope of its approaching consummation in that world, 
where he will behold and love, glorify and enjoy the 
infinite Jehovah in a perfect and progressive manner 
forever and ever. 

Thus the good man's joy begins, centers, and termi- 
nates in God himself ; in contemplating, resembling, and 
honouring him, and receiving corresponding returns of 
his favour. So that the glory of God and the happiness 
of his friends are harmoniously and indissolubly united. 
The saint has no true joy separate from glorifying God ; 
and so far as he feels a temper of love to, and satisfaction 
in God, he is necessarily happy ; and this happiness at 
once reflects glory upon its benevolent author and ob- 
ject, and furnishes its subject with new incentives and 
advantages to serve and praise him. 

How different are the fpelings of holy Christians from 
those of ungodly or hypocritical characters ! The habit- 
ual, the hardened sinner, far from being pleased with the 
existence and character of the Most High, dreads and 
hates the idea of him, because his nature is holy. The- 
pulse and wish of a wicked man's heait are, therefore, on 
the side of atheism. " The fool hath said in his heart, 
there is no God." And the counterfeit, deluded pre- 
tender to religion, though he may seem to overflow with 
spiritual joy, yet does not really rejoice in God, but in 
himself. He rejoices, not in the infinite majesty, beau- 
ty, and felicity of the divine nature ; but in his own fan- 
cied dignity and goodness, his own imaginary religious 
experiences and attainments, privileges and prospects. 
Of course his jov begins and ends in himself; it is the' 
' Hh 



204 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIif. 

spurious offspring of pride, self love, and self decep- 
tion ► 

But it is necessary to add, though true joy primarily 
fixes on God himself, it does not exclude, but implies, 
the consideration of his benefits. As the good man is 
supremely delighted with the essential glories of Deity ; 
so he consequentially and subordinately rejoices in his 
own interest in him, in the evidence of his special and 
everlasting favour. With what unutterable delight does 
he breathe out that exulting language, *^ This God is- 
MY God fareijer and e^oer. His unerring wisdom is, my 
unfailing guide ; his omnipotent arm is my constant 
shield ; his infinite goodness, beauty, and love are my 
satisfying and everlasting portion !" What a new, addi- 
tional charm must this appropriating joy in God as our 
Friend impart to all the streams even of his common 
bounty \ How unspeakably estimable and sweet is the 
least mercy, when we can view it as the gift of a most 
excellent, generous, beloved Fktron and Father I 

How essentially does the pleasure, which the pious mail 
takes even in the common entertainments of life, differ 
from that of the sensual and profane \ The sensitive en- 
joyments of the one are refined by the rational and sub- 
lime pleasures of thankful devotion, which forms the 
crowning ingredient of his pleasures ; while those of the 
other are merely natural, selfish, and brutal. The Chris- 
tian brings to the entertainment, that inward sweetness, 
contentment, and gladness of heart, which flow from the 
love and blessing of God, and which give a rich and de- 
lightfal flavour to the meanest enjoyment. *' Go thy 
way," says Solomon, '' eat thy bread with joy, and 
drink thy wine with a merry heart ; for God now ac- 
cepteth thy work." Since God accepteth and blesseth 
the righteous man, no wonder that joy and gladness. 



Seb. XVII;] religious JOY. 205 

thanksgiving and the voice of melody, are found in his 
habitation ; for God himself is there as a constant guest. 
But since the secret curse of God is upon the wicked 
man, and all that he has, it must blast every enjoyment, 
and either immediately or ultimately turn it into gall, 
and worm\\ ood, and death. 

The religious joy of the saint is also an effectual reg- 
ulator of his inferior delights. While he cheerfully par- 
ticipates in the innocent pleasures which his heavenly 
Parent sets before him; he endeavours to enjoy them 
like a man and a Christian ; w\\h a cautious moderation 
and sobriety ; so as not to \'iolate or lose either his rea- 
son or religion ; so as not to be transported into idle lev- 
ity, thoughdess folly, or intemperate excess ; so as not 
to sacrifice the pure and sublime joys resulting from die 
favour and enjoyment of his God, to these |)erishing de- 
lights. Then we act in character as Christians ; then 
we triil}^ rejoice in the Lord ; when we sacredly regard 
this rule, to rejoice in worldly good as though we re^ 
joiced not ; to use the world as not abusing it ; and 
constantly to restrict all our other pleasures by a su- 
preme regard to, and delight in, our Maker. But car- 
nal men reverse this rule. They devote themselves to 
earthly enjoyments in an unbounded degree ; they cen- 
tre their whole happiness in them; thej^ sacrifice to 
them their reason and conscience, their present virtue 
and peace, and their future immortal hopes. *^^ 

Further, The joy of the Christian in the bounties of 
Heaven is a modest andhurnble affection, arising from a 
proper sense of his dependence on God for them, and 
his sinful unwc«-thiness, forfeiture, and abuse of them. 
Accordingly, while religious joy soars as high as heav- 
en in adoring gratitude and praise for the condescending 
nnd wonderful goodness of God ; it sinks as low as the 



206 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIL 

dust in penitent humiliation for its own conscious vile*- 
ness and iil-desert. But the joy of unsanctified men, on 
such occasions, is a proud and independent feeling; 
which swells them into imaginary deities, and leads them 
to ascribe their enjoyments to their own sagacity, indus- 
try, or merit. 

In a word, true joy in the divine benefits, while it el- 
evates the heart to the infinite Giver, inspires greater 
zeal and alacrity in his service, and a keener relish for 
the enjoyment of him. " Can I,'' says the good man, 
'* go on to offend that God, w^ho is daily feasting me 
T^ith his beneficence ? Shall I not with pious gratitude 
reflect back on their great Original the innumerable cheer- 
ing beams of divine goodness, which are shining upon 
me ? Shall I not, by ardent love and vigorous obedience, 
return to the infinite Fountain, that full tide of joy, 
which is daily flowing into my heart ? Shall I not testify 
my cheerful gratitude to my divine Benefactor by imi- 
tating his diffusive and disinterested goodness ; by im- 
parting to Iiis creatures the same gladness, which he is 
communicating to me ; by improving the talents and 
blessings which he confers upon me in promoting the 
happiness of his rational family ? If the little rivulets of 
pleasure, v/hich comfort my earthly pilgrimage, be so 
delicious, what must it be to have an intimate, perfect, 
and everlasting enjoyment of their uncreated Source ! 
Let my taste of the former, then, continually increase 
my relish and preparation for the latter. '' 

Thus we see that religious joy is not a mere specula- 
tive sentiment, or rapturous feeling of the mind ; much 
less a transient, mechanical flash of the animal affec- 
tions ; but such a steady, delightful union of the heart 
to the divine character, as engages us to resemble and 
honour it by a correspondent practice ; and such pure 



SiR. XVn.] RELIGIOUS JOY. ^07 

gratitude for divine benefits, as greatly improves our at- 
tachment to, and cooperation with, their benevolent au- 
thor ; and awakens our cheerful activity in serving God 
and our generation. 

I must add, true joy in the Lord is a constant and 
perpetual aSection. It does not vary w ith outward cir- 
cumstances, but subsists the same, amid all the vicissi- 
tudes of life. Some may be ready to ask, Is die com- 
mand in the text seasonable and binding at all times, 
even in scenes of gi-eat adversity and distress ? Is it suit- 
able, or indeed possible, to rejoice in such circumstan- 
ces ? We instantly reply in the affirmative. For since 
the great object, foundation, and materials of this joy 
are unchanging and everlasting; and since the soul, 
which is its subject pr recipient, is immortal ; the exer- 
cise of it should be stable and permanent. It ought not 
to be disturbed by the greatest external changes. 
When we are deprived of other sources of comfort, still 
we may and must rejoice in the Lord ; for the fountain, 
which feeds this joy, never ceases to flow. Agreeably, 
Saint Paul cliarf;,es Christians in the text, and elsewhere, 
to rejoice in the Lord always ; to rejoice evermore ; to 
give thanks always for all things. And he describes 
himself and his fellow professors in the primitive age of 
Christianity, amidst all their uncommon sufferings, as 
sorrowful^ yet always rejoicing. Though this may sound 
like a strange paradox to common ears ; yet it does not 
in the least grate the ears of Christian believers ; W'ho 
are taught to view God, his government, and promises, 
as unchangeably wise, benevolent, and faithful. 

If the Christian be afHicted in his body by sickness or 

pain, which incapacitates him for enjoying the world ; 

yet his soul, being in a healthful state, may enjoy both 

Jtself and its God. When a good man, indeed, is Ian- 



20S ItEI^IGlOUS JOY, [Ser. XVII. 

guishlng ui%<}er disease, and his animal and niental spir- 
its are low ; he cannot ordinarily exert such vigorous 
^nd sensible emotions, even of spiritual joj, as when his 
body is in tune for assisting and joining with his soul 
in these 4ivine exercises. Much less can this be ex- 
pected, when he is visited with shai'p and torturing pains. 
But if in such a situation he can possess a cahn, though 
not an impassioned joy ; if he can serenely trust, ac- 
quiesce and delight in God ; this must be owned an 
invaluable privilege, and a mighty support. Now this 
attainment a pious man may and ought to make. Wheri 
his flesh and his heart fail him under the pressure of dis- 
ease, he.may and should confide and rejoice in.God, as ths 
strength of his heart and his portion forever. When he feels 
his earthly tabernacle tottering, and ready to drop into .the 
dust ; he may exult in the prospect of a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens. When his body can 
XiO longer be the subject or avenue of any satisfaction, 
he can retire inward, and feast on those rational, moral, 
and divine pleasures, which ai^e peculiar to the soul ; and 
may triumph in the thought, that his immortal spirit 
will soon exchange its present uncomfortable prison for 
a more free and congenial habitation, where it will en- 
joy itself and its proper entertainments in an uninter- 
rupted and perfect manner. 

If the Christian be oppressed with worldly losses and 
calamities, he may still say with the prophet, " Although 
the figtree do not blossom, and there be no fruit in the 
vine;" though my earthly possessions and prospects 
fail ; " yet I will rejoice in the L*ord ; I will joy in the 
God of my salvation." He niay still say with the apos- 
tle ; " I have nothing, and yet possess all things." For 
having God for my treasure, I have enough; I have ail 
and abound : I possess an inward fund of riches and sat- 



Ser. XVII.] RELIGIOUS JOY. 209 

isfaction, which has no dependence on the world; 
which does not ebb and flow with that restless and tem- 
pestuous sea." 

We may rise one sttep higher, arid say, that the true 
saint may and ought to Rejoice in God even in the midst 
of spiritual darkness and distress ; in the midst of painful 
doubts and fears respecting his own interest in the di- 
vine favour. Though he cannot, in such a case, rejoice 
in God as his assured friend ; yet his mind may be en- 
tertained with affectionate and deUghtful views of the 
perfect rectitude, glory, and blessedness of the Deit}', 
the complete fitness and beauty of his whole plan both 
of providence and grace, and the excellent issue to 
w'hich all his proceedings are harmoniously tending. 
When a person of a sanctified taste thus contemplates 
w^ith suitable affections, the beauty of divine objects, he 
has a direct and noble enjoyment of them. If he dares 
not claim a special interest in them, he still relishes and 
rejoices in their intrinsic excellence. If his heavenly 
Father still seems to frown upon him, and withholds 
from him the sensible tokens of his love ; yet he still 
cleaves to him with filial attachment; he resolutely 
maintains a spirit of dutiful submission to, of trust and 
delight in, the divine character and government ; and 
is far more concerned to honour God by a proper beha- 
viour in, and improvement of, his present affliction, than 
merely to obtain light and comfort for himself. A per- 
son, w^ho habitually possesses these exalted views and 
feelings, must derive from them perpetual tranquillity 
and cheerfulness, even in the darkest hours of distress. 
May almighty grace inspire us ail with this temper and 
this blessedness. 



@)ermon xviil 



Religious Joy explained and recom- 
mended. 



Philippians IV. 4. 
Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I say, rejoice. 

ITjLAVING largely explained the nature of religious 
joy, it remains, agreeably to our plan, that we now 
recommend and enforce the practice of it. 

When the apostle repeatedly exhorts good men to 
rejoice in God, he evidently implies that spiritual joy is 
one of their greatest privileges and duties. In both 
these lights I will endeavour to recommend it to your 
earnest cultivation and pursuit. 

First. It is one of the Christian's noblest prerogatives 
and blessings. For the object of this joy is the most 
excellent in the universe : for who or what in the heav- 
ens or earth is to be compared to the Lord ? When we 
offer to make a comparison between God and other be- 
ings, there is nothing which appears great or estimable, 
but all things seem equally little, none of them bearing 
the smallest conceivable proportion to the infinite Being : 
so that the whole universe in this vievv^ appears less than 
nothing and vanity. This incomprehensibly great and 
glorious Being is the object of the Christian's joy : and 
must not that joy, which terminates on such an object, 
be preferable to any other? Must not our joy vary with 
its object ; be low or high, mean or excellent, in propor- 



Ser. XVIIL] RELIGIOUS JOY. 211 

tion to it? Consequently, ^^here the object is of infinite 
worthj must not the joy have a kind of infinity in it; a 
value, a grandeur, a sublimity, which is unspeakable ? 
must not that joy, which embraces and exults in such a 
pure, immutable, allsufficient, iiiexhaustible source of 
excellence and good, partake in some measure of, or at 
least correspond with, the divine properties of its object, 
and so be a pure, permanent, satisfying, overflowing 
spring of delight ? 

Especially when we consider, that the seat of this joy- 
is the noblest in its kind as well, as the object : for it 
dwells in the higliest and purest region of the soul. 
The soul is superior to the whole world. As much su- 
perior is the soul to itself, when it rejoices in the Lord, 
beyond what it is when it rejoices in earthly good. Its 
sublimest faculties, raised and reiined by the grace of 
God, and acting in the most perfect manner, are requi- 
site, to apprehend and enjoy this most transcendent Ob- 
ject. The soul lets itself down, and contracts its 
thoughts and designs in conversing with other objects ; 
but here it swells, and dilates all its powers and passions. 
In most other joys, it stoops beneath itself j here it 
rises above itself, above its natural pitch. The Spirit 
of God opens the eyes of the understanding, sheds a 
supernatural light upon it, auakens its latent powers, and. 
endues it with new activity. The abode of this sacred 
joy is not like this inferior region, where the atmosphere 
is thick, frequently void of light, and engenders storms 
and tempests, and a variety of diseases ; but like the 
superior part of the heaxens, ^\liere there is perpetual 
day, and undisturbed calm, and the etherial fluid is un- 
mixed and unpolluted. Such is the seat of this holy 
joy compared with that where sensual appetites and joys 
are placed. 

I i 



212 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIII. 

Let me add, that the effects of this joy are most ex- 
tensive, beneficial, and lasting. *' The joy of the Lord 
is our strength/' It fortifies the soul, and inspires a 
vigour and courage unknown to others, which make it 
victorious over all the power of the enemy. It is ex- 
ceedingly perfective of our nature ; begets high aims, 
generous sentiments and dispositions, holy desires and 
aspirations. Nothing can improve the mind like^ this 
divine joy ; like the contemplation of God and delight- 
ing in him. It brings the soul nearer to God, both in 
holiness and happiness. This joy is not confined to 
place or time. God being eveiy wlrere, we can every 
where rejoice in him. Being the disposer of our con- 
ditiony whatever it be, we can, in every condition, re- 
joice in him. Whatever else we are doing, if it be not 
displeasing to God, we m.ay still rejoice in him. This 
joy is never unseasomable^ never out of place ; and 
(which crov/ns all)' never decays. The impression is 
not fleeting and transient, as in other joys ; but durable 
like the soul, and everlasting as the foundation on which 
it rests. All which shev/s the greatness and excellence 
of this privilege and felicity. 

Secondly. It is a privilege peculiar to real saints ; they 
only are qualified for, and entitled to this j,oy.. No 
others have the requisite qualifications ;: ^hicharey Jike- 
ness and love to the Object. A likeness of temper and 
manners is the main foundation and cement of human 
friendships ; \v hich are seldom carried to any height, 
and still seldomer prove lasting, where the parties do not 
agree in their reigning inclinations. The same is still- 
more necessary in this divine friendship betv.een God 
and the soul : for the soul is utterly incapable of de- 
lighting in God, and God in the soul, till his image is 
draAvrr anew upon it, and they both relish and delight 



Ser. XVIII.] RELIGIOUS JOY. 213 

in the same things. Then, and not before, they ^^ ill 
delight in each other. Now since this is true of none 
but renewed, sanctified persons, the privilege of rejoic- 
ing in God is necessarily limited to them ; and so much 
the more as likeness is ever joined with lo'/e. Can we 
rejoice in God, uhile we do not love him? Or can 
we lo^•e him, while Ave cire prevailingly unlike and con- 
trary to him ? What enjoyment can there be A\ithout 
love ? What love w ithout mutual resemblance '? 

It is a contradiction that beings should at the 
same time hate and delight in one another. But this is 
the state of all natural men. There is a mutual hatred 
between God and them ; they hate God, as a holy, just, 
sin revenging Governor and Judge ; and he abhors them 
as unholy, wicked creatures : and the enmity, being mu- 
ti,\al, must be an e\'erlasting bar to mutual joy. But 
every renewed, pious soul loves God, is a hearty friend 
to his character and interest; and hereby becomes, as it 
were, one with him, and thus rejoices in his perfection, glo- 
ry and blessedness, as if they were its own. It longs to 
unite with God perfectly, to glorify and enjoy him in the 
highest possible degree : and by these holy, loving desires 
after perfect enjoyment, it enjoys him even now in part ; 
for these aspirations of divine love and joy are an earn- 
est and prelibation of perfect, beatific fruition in glory. 

And, as this spiritual joy must be peculiar to the up- 
right, because they alone are capable of it, being the on- 
ly persons qualified for it, so they only have a title to it. 
For the same holy dispositions, which constitute our qual- 
ifications for this privilege, are required by God as con- 
ditions of our right to it. And with very good reason ; 
for certainly it would not become the Divine Wisdom to 
give a man a title to a thing, for which he was not prepar- 
ed, were it for no other reason than this, that a right in 



214 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIIL 

this case, though to the greatest treasure in the universe, 
could be of no advantage, any more than the gift of light 
to the bhnd. 

In short, none are entitled by divine constitution to the 
privilege of rejoicing in the Lord, but those who have 
an interest in Christ. If we Christians "joy in God," 
it is " through our Lord Jesus Christ,'- by whom we 
have received the atonement. Christ has made atone- 
ment for the sins of mankind ; but all have not recehed 
the atonement, have not complied with the true spirit 
and design of it, and with the appointed conditions of an 
interest in it; consequently, all such persons are as 
much in a state of guilt and condemnation, as if no 
atonement had been made and offered, and therefore 
have no right to joy in God through Christ. Here the 
mighty difference between the happy few and the wretched 
multitude takes its rise. But few are cordial friends to a 
crucified, atoning Saviour ; but few have that humble, 
penitent, affectionate faith in him, which is connected 
with a saving union to his person, and tide to his benefits. 
But few therefore ai'c in a pardoned, justified state, and 
so have a right to call God their God and portion, and 
to glory and triumph in him as such. The greater num- 
ber even of nominal Christians, being (as it is to be fear- 
ed) '' without Christ," of course neither have aright to, 
nor a moral capacity for, rejoicing in the Lord. 

Having seen that it is the privilege of good men to re. 
joice in God, it remains that we shew. 

Thirdly, That it is also their duty thus to rejoice. 
That joy, which religion confers, as a privilege and felici- 
ty, it commands us to accept, to cherish, and improve. 
It requires the daily exercise of holy joy, as a necessary 
proof of our sincerity ; since without this our religion 
must be essentially deficient, both in principle and 
practice. 



See. XVIII.] RELIGIOUS JOY. 215 

First, mprijiciple ; for did faith, or hope, or love rule 
the heart, they could not fail to produce pleasure and 
joy in the service of God. We naturally delight in con- 
templating, pleasing, imitating, and honouring a friend 
whom we love. If then we feel no liabitual joy in God, 
it argues the want of love to him. So that if we exclude 
joy in God from our religion, we shut out love, and 
have no motives to it but fear and self-interest, which 
are low^ and unsuitable principles, on which to serve and 
obey such a Being as the infinite Jehovah? a Being, 
who deserves and demands our hearts, yea, our whole 
heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. 

Secondly, in practice : for neither life, zeal, nor perse- 
verance in duty are to be expected from huii, whose 
heart is a stranger to delight in God and his ways. He 
applies himself to religion as a task. He dreads the 
taskmaster, but will labour no more than necessity re- 
quires. Such a religion as this is essentially different 
from the homage of him, who worships the Father in 
spirit and in truth. 

Estimate dien tlie genuineness of your religion, botii 
in principle and practice, by the satisfaction and joy 
which you find in God and his service. Be assured, 
that where your treasure is, there will your highest joy 
be. As the worldly man rejoices in his earthly pos- 
sessions, the voluptuous man in his sensual pleasures, 
and the social in his friends and companions ; so the 
truly good man rejoices in his God, in the di- 
vine perfections, go^^ernment, precepts, and promises. 
This is what he o^ves both to God and religion, to him- 
self, and to others. 

Hence in order to reach this attainment or practise 
this duty in the happiest manner, he ought to take e\'ery 
step, which may tend to beget, maintain, and increase 



216 RELIGIOUS JOY. Ser. XVIII.] 

this holy joy, or to put his mind into a right frame for 
the exercise of it. As, 

First, He ought to make his caUing and election sure ; 
and by impartial self- inquiry come to a decision of the 
great question, whose servant or child he is. For if he 
is the true child and servant of God, nothing is necessa- 
ry to his rejoicing in him, but his knowing it. If I 
know that God is my father, and that I serve him as a 
son serveth his f-ither, from a pure, filial affection to 
him, as the principle of my obedience, and in hope of 
his paternal acceptance and favour, as the utmost re. 
ward of it ; it is impossible but that I should esteem this 
a reasonable jrround of iov in God, and as such derive 



fc>' 



py 



high satisfaction from it. It is therefore my duty to en- 
deavour to know this, and not remain uncertain in a con^ 
cern of such infinite moment, when I may with due 
care and pains arrive at satisfaction in it. 

'^ No man know^eth the things of a man, but the spirit 
of a man which is in him ;" which implies that the spir- 
it of a man may know its own things, if it apply itself 
diligently to know them. And what are those things of 
a man, which the spirit within him may come to under^ 
stand ? What but the things wdiich most nearly concern 
him, the things of his pc^ace, the tilings which accom-r 
pany salvation ? And liow shall his spirit know these 
things, but by descending into itself, and commun' 
ing with itself ; examining w^hat is the chief ob- 
ject of its love and hatred ; which way it most 
strongly inclines ; what it sets up as its supreme 
good, and by what, in case of competition, he w^ould 
abide, so as to part with all other things to secure it ? 
Can I say, that God is my center and my end ; the end 
of all my actions, and the center of my rest ? If so, I 
have reason to conclude, and rejoice in my sincerity, and 



Sii!R. XVIII.] RELIGIOUS JOY. ^17 

to rejoice in God, as approving and accepting me ! This 
then is the first duty of Christians in this aftair, to en- 
deavour to be satisfied of their right to rejoice in God, 
in order to their being about actually to do it. 

Secondly. It is their duty to remove out of the way 
whatever they have found, or have reason to think, is a 
hinderance to this holy joy ; particularly, a multitude of 
worldly cares, and a too free indulgence of worldly joys. 

Worldly cares, when they run high and grow numer- 
ous, prey'upon the very life and strength of the soul : 
its force is spent upon them, so that it has no spirit left 
for the exercises of devotion ; and when duties are spirit- 
less, no wonder they are joj'less too. Good men are of- 
ten very faulty in this matter : they care for the things 
of the world more than they need or ought : they have too 
many cares, or they sink too deep into their hearts. 
Such persons should not wonder that they receive no 
more satisil\ction from meditating on divine objects, 
which in themselves are adapted to give the most exquis- 
ite delight. They must discharge the train of cumberous 
cares, which now absorb their minds, before the joy of 
the Lord will enter and possess them. 

They must also beware of a too fi^ee indulgence of 
worldly and sensitive;(?y^, even those which are in them- 
selves innocent : for this is not the only thing to be 
considdred by the Christian ; namely, the bare lawful- 
ness of any pleasure or satisfaction, abstractedly taken : 
but do I give myself up to it ? If not wholly, yet to a 
much greater degree than I should ? By these means it 
gets the mastery of my soul ; takes up the room which 
ought to be filled with better entertainments, sensualizes 
and debases my taste, and thereby indisposes me for the 
fruition of those purer joys, which religion bestows on 
all, who truly desire and seek them. It is very true that 



218 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Sbr. XVIII, 

other joys, when of a lawful nature, and lawfully used, 
i. e. with moderation, are subservient to religion, and 
proinole our joy iti God. But it is far otherwise, when 
we make pleasure of any kind not so much our diver- 
sion, as our business ; when our passions are warmly 
engaged by it, and we are no longer easy than while our 
circumstances enable us to command the returns of it. 
Religious joy has a happy influence on our common joys, 
to guide and moderate them : and when it has not this 
effect, but through our own negligence, or the great force 
of temptation to sensual pleasure, the heart lets itself out 
to those low delights, such fleshly pleasures have a sad 
influence on our religious joys, so that the stream abater 
in this channel in the same proportion, as it swells in 
the other ; for it cannot at the same time rise to any 
great height in both. 

Thirdl}'-. It is the duty of Christians to stir up their 
souls to rejoice in the Lord. They are not to allow 
themselves in a heartless, melancholy frame :. they 
must not give way to it, as if it were a temper of mind 
acceptable to God and creditable to religion; but mtist 
endeavour, to chide themselves out of it, expostulating 
with their own souls, as the psalmist does with his. 
''Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art 
thou disquieted within me ? Hope thou in God, for I 
shall yet praise him, who is the health of my counte- 
nance and my God." They ought to arise and exert 
all their vigour in combating and expelling these gloomy, 
melancholy ideas and passions, which are such enemies 
to the peace of their souls, and the pleasure and credit 
of their religion. If they vAW not seek comfort with 
diligence in God's way, hovv- can they expect to And it? 
Do they think that God will, by an extraordinary op-^ 
eration of his Spirit, create a bright and peaceful day 



Ser. XVIII.] RELIGIOUS JOY. 219 

within them, while they do all they can to hinder its 
admission *? Are they not in this case guilty at once of 
inexcuseable sloth and presumption, and justly punished 
with a denial of that joy, which they do not labour to 
obtain ? 

Fourthly. They must make this a frequent petition in 
their addresses to the throne of grace, that God would 
give them the joy of his salvation, and uphold them with 
his free Spirit : that he, who is the Father of lights, 
would dart some beams of heavenly light into their souls, 
that they may not sit in darkness and in the shadow of 
death, but walk and rejoice in the light of life : that he, 
who is the fountain of comfort and blessedness, would 
speak peace to their troubled thoughts, would calm their 
tumultuous passions, and enable them to act all the graces, 
perform all die duties, and enjoy all the entertainments of 
the divine life, with high relish and delight. " Thou hast 
made it my duty, O my God, to rejoice in thee. And since 
thou hast made it my duty, I believe thou art ready to give 
me grace to perform it. I therefore apply to thee for 
light to guide me continually in that course, which \v xil 
bring me this invrard joy." 

These are soms of the steps, which Christians may 
and should take, in order to be in the best preparation 
and disposition of mind for rejoicing in the Lord. 
And that all this is their incumbent duty, is evident, 
not only from the text and similar precepts, but from 
such considerations as these : 

First. The credit of reliscion oblisres them to it. 
What v.ill the enemies of God and religion say, v hen 
they see die most conscientious friends to both, appear- 
ing from day to day with ^ visible sadness and gloom on 
their countenances and deportment, as if they had no 
enjoyment of themselves ; but were some of the most 
K k 



220 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIIL 

forlorn and WTetched of mortals ? Will they not be apt 
to say, surely the yoke of Christ is not what he has 
represented it, an easy yoke, and his burden hght : no ; 
his service must be a wearisome, or at best an insipid 
thing. And not only the professed enemies of religion 
will be tempted to talk in this strain, but others too, who 
might have embraced a life of virtue and piety, had it 
not been held up to them in so frightful a dress by the 
notions and behaviour of some well meaning but mis- 
taking Christians ; these too will be prejudiced against 
religion. They, of all men, have the fairest title to, and 
the greatest reason, capacit}% and fund of joy and de- 
light ; for who should rejoice, if they do not and must 
not, who act up to their character as men and as Chris- 
tians ; who in the main keep a good conscience both to- 
ward God and man ? Joy and satisfaction ai'e the natural 
as well, as promised reward of such a life. Who 
should rejoice, if they may not, who have God for their 
chief good and felicity, Christ for their way to it, the 
Holy Spirit as their qualifier for and earnest of it, and 
heaven for their everlasting home, in which they are to 
possess and enjoy it ? How can such persons reflect on 
all this, and not rejoice ? Certainly, they would be 
exceedingly to be blamed, if they did not rejoice. 

And if there be this inward joy, it will express itself 
in the outward conversation. An easy mind, a content- 
ed, joyful heart cannot be concealed. All a man's words 
and actions will be tinctured with it. Like the oint- 
ment of the right hand (a sweet perfume, chafed 
with the heat of the hand) it will bewray itself, 
and diffuse its fragrance all around. And it is fit 
that it should. Christians ought not, if able, to throw a 
veil of pensive sadness over the tranquillity and joy of their 
hearts. This would not be humility, but affectation : it 



1 



See. XVIIL] RELIGIOUS JOY. 221 

would not adorn religion, but disgrace it ; and conse- 
quendy would not be pleasing and honourary to God, 
but the reverse. 

Secondly. The Spirit is communicated for this end, 
that we might rejoice in the Lord ; and is therefore 
called '* the Comforter,^'' And as this, so his other tides, 
.of a "free Spirit," tlie " Spiritof adoption," die ''Spirit 
of glory, '^ all signify his being imparted with this de- 
sign, that we should rejoice and glory in that blessed 
state into which by the grace of God ^ve are translated. 
The fruit of the Spirit is love, and joy, and peace. 
These are the affections, which constitute happiness; 
and these are the affections, which both the gospel and 
the Spirit of Christ are given to raise and promote. 
Christians are bound to love God and one another; 
and where this divine affection is triumphant, joy and 
peace are always found in its train. 

Then let not any of the followers of Christ entertain 
such an erroneous thought, as if a sorrowful, dejected 
spirit, were the true, the genuine spirit of Christianity. 
Sorrow for sin, there ought to be ; but this sorrow, 
when it is after a godly sort, is not inconsistent with joy, 
but implies and produces it. It implies it, as it involves 
the exercise of love to God, whom by sin we have offend- 
ed, a pleasing faith, and hope in his forgiving mercy 
through the Mediator, the acting and consciousness of a 
right disposition toward sin and holiness : all which af- 
ford immediate and unspeakable delight. It produces it, 
as it is the condition and evidence of a state of pardon 
^nd peace with God. On both accounts, godly sorrow, 
far from excluding, is the seed of spiritual joy. 

Thirdly. This joy tends very much to die advance- 
ment of die divine life in the soul. In this sense, the joy 
of the Lord is the strength of the righteous. It greatly 



222 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIII. 

confirms them in the ways of piety, fortifies their holy 
resolutions, and supports them in times of trouble. 
The Christian, whose rehgion yields him little or no 
peace and pleasure, is not so likely to be zealously af- 
fected in it, or to go on with any speed toward perfec- 
tion. 

Would you then abound in the work of the Lord, and 
in the fruits of righteousness to his glory ? Would you 
have all the powers of your soul invigorated ? Would 
you improve in every divine virtue, and perform every 
duty in the most acceptable manner? Then labour to 
keep up a spirit of holy joy and cheerfulness. It is your 
duty to do this as hiuch, as it is your duty to be still 
advancing in religion ; since you cannot expect the latter 
w ithout the former. Is not the Christian life represent- 
ed as a race and a pilgrimage ? Are we not travelling to-- 
ward Zion? But what speed can we make with a 
continual load of sadness and dejection upon our spirits ? 
How can we run the race set before us ? How be other- 
wise than weary and faint in our minds ? Wherefore let 
us lift up the hands that hang down and the feeble knees, 
and make straight paths for our feet, lest that which is 
lame be turned out of the way. Let us thus rejoice in 
God through Jesus Christ, though not without a hum- 
bling sense of our great unworthiness and numberless 
defects. Then we shall find ourselves much more live- 
ly and active in religion ; and being freed from that bur- 
den, under which we were before ready to sink, shall 
run in the way of God's commands, and mount up to- 
ward heaven as on the wings of eagles. 

IMPROVEMENT. 

In the first place ^ what a charming idea does our sub. 
ject give of true religion, especially under the Christian 



Ser. XVIIL] religious joy. 223 

dispensation ! Even under all the darkness, restrictions, 
and terrors of the law, good men were acquainted with 
spiritual joy ; and some of them on ancient record, 
particularly David, expressed their holy joy, in the most 
elevated language. But under the gospel, religion ap- 
pears in its brightest and fairest light, and is eminently 
adapted to beget all joy and peace, in those who believe 
and duly entertain it. No one can think or speak evil of 
the religion of Christ, who rightly understands it. For 
what is its main design, but to restore us to God and to 
ourselves, to our true perfection and happiness ? Let us 
only, at present, take notice of its tendency to promote 
our well being, both in this life and the next, by the 
provision it has made for the due government and exer- 
cise of our affections. These affections may be con- 
sidered with regard both to action and enjoyment. 

The two chief springs of action are hope and fear ; 
the two principal sources of enjoyment^ or ingredients of 
felicity, are love and joy. As to the first pair of these 
affections, no religion can possibly be better adapted to 
awaken and regulate these, than the Christian. For 
what will awaken our hope, if the prospect of such a 
blessedness as the gospel sets before us, which is con- 
summate and endless, will not do it ? What can reason- 
ably awaken our fears, like the wrath of God revealed 
from heaven against all unrighteousness and ungodliness 
of men ? And what method can be proposed for the reg- 
ulation of our other hopes and fears, so likely and effec- 
tual as this, of making them all subservient to those 
hopes and fears, which terminate on things invisible and 
eternal? And the end of exciting our fear as well, as 
hope, being this, that we may hereby be engaged to a right 
temper and conduct, the gospel, even in its tlireatenings 
as well, as promises, has a very benign and friendly as- 
pect. 



224 KELIGIQUS Jay. iSzK. XVIIIi 

The same may be remarked concerning our love and 
joy, on which our fruition of happiness more immediate- 
ly depends. Were our souls under the powerful influ- 
ence of that love, which the gospel aims to kindle in our 
breasts, the love of God and of Jesus ; and did we ex- 
perience more of that inward joy, to which we are so fre^ 
quently and earnestly invited by God himself, we should 
be more truly and eminently happy, tlian we now are ; 
and should not be in so much danger of pursuing the 
empty, fugitive phantoms of happiness, which this 
world presents. I may add, the higher degrees we 
enjoyed of this divine happiness, the more steady and 
unshaken would be the adherence of our souls to the 
supreme good ; and the main objects of our love and joy, 
being wisely chosen and deeply fixed, wou^d so direct 
and overrule our love of inferior things and delight in 
them, as to keep them within the bounds of reason ; be- 
yond which they only occasion greater discjuietude and 
vexation. 

What just ground, then, can any have to entertain an 
iU opinion of religion, of the Christian religion ? It is 
true Christianity obliges us to mortify our members 
which are upon the earth. But these meml^ers are 
only certain excrescences of our nature, irregular lusts 
and passions, wliich are as incompatible with our peace 
and happiness, as with our duty. *' Mortify your mem^ 
bers which are on the earth, fornication, uncleanness, 
inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetous- 
ness, which is idolatry." This shows, that though 
these corrupt inclinations are styled our members, they do 
not belong to our primitive or our renewed nature, but 
only to the corruption of it. It is further granted, that 
Christianity carries virtue to its highest pitch ; that it 
enjoins such heights of purity and divine love, that it is 



Srr. XVIII.] RELIGIOUS JOY, 225 

no easy thing to be a Christian indeed. But what does 
this prove ? Not that the religion of Jesus is not adapt- 
ed to the fehcity of this hfe, but the reverse ; for it lays 
no other burden upon us, than what is, in its own na- 
ture, reasonable, necessary, and beneficial, and what 
would be no burden at all, were it not for our own de- 
pravity. It aims only to remove what would incapaci- 
tate us for true pleasui^ ; and when it obliges us to be 
holy in all manner of conversation, to be perfect and 
pure as God and Christ are ; it does it upon this ground, 
that such holiness and perfection are the true glory and 
happiness of our reasonable natures, w^hich alone can 
enable us to rejoice in God. Godliness has the promise 
of this life as well, as of that which is to come ; not in- 
deed of the pride and incumbrance of life, of worldly 
affluence, greatness, pleasure ; but of that happiness, 
which suits a reasonable nature, and the design of our 
Christian profession. 

In short, the glory of God in the happiness of men is 
the great object and end of Christianity, in the whole 
system of its doctrines, precepts and sanctions. It is 
true that our everlasting happiness in the next life is 
principally intended, as it ought to be ; but then the 
happiness of this life is consulted and promoted as far, 
as is consistent with the other, which is infinitely more 
important. And I may safely affirm, that it is richly 
w^orthy of the wisest man's choice to be a Christian, 
merely on the score of the present felicity, which attends 
such a character. 

/;/ the second place ^ are w^e acquainted with that habit- 
ual, holy joy in the Lord, w^hich is the peculiar charac- 
ter and privilege as well, as the constant duty of the 
righteous ? Is God himself, in the infinite glory of his 
perfections and government, the primary object of our 



226 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIIt 

joy ? Can we cordially rejoice in every thing, which re- 
lates to this most excellent Being? Does our joy in 
God possess a decided superiority over, and, as it were, 
perfume and consecrate, all our other joys ? And is it a 
constant and permanent thing? Are we qualified and 
capacitated for this spiritual joy, by a prevailing like- 
ness and love to the object ? Are we entitled to it by a 
vital union to Christ, the great medium and procurer of 
this privilege ? 

In the third place ^ to such as find themselves desti^ 
tute of any title to, qualifications for, or experience of, 
this joy, let me briefly say ; Your condition at present 
resembles that of the starving prodigal in a strange land, 
at a distance from his father's house, associating with 
swine, feeding upon husks, perishing with hunger. 
Perhaps some of you are now triiunphing in the pleasing 
enjoyments and prospects, which a flattering world pre- 
sents to her prosperous votaries, especially in the bloom- 
ing gaiety of youthful life. But, my friends, look for- 
ward to the end of this bright and fascinating career of 
worldly joy. Ask the child of earthly pleasure on his 
death bed, whether this is the course he would recom- 
mend to his children and friends ; whether with his dy- 
ing breath he can assure them, that these gratifications 
really form the greatest enjoyment of life ? Will he not 
tell you, from his own experience, that they are all vani- 
ty and vexation ; that they are in themselves treach- 
erous, unsound, hollow, disturbed in the very moment 
of enjoyment ; that in the midst of such laughter the 
heart is sorrowful ; that the smile of gaiety is often as- 
sumed, while the heart aches within? Whereas relig- 
ion, by bringing back the wandering soul to God, and 
placing its love, and hope, and joy in him, produces a 
heartfelt, habitual, and satisfying delight, a calm, serene 



Ser. XVIII.I religious joy. 227 

enjoyment, a steady light, shining like that of the sun, 
more and more unto the perfect day. 

Let me, then, earnestly invite and press you to 
come, taste, and see how good the Lord is ; to come, 
eat of wisdom's bread, and drink of the wine, which she 
has mingled. Let me call on all those, who have hith- 
erto walked in the way of their own hearts, and have no 
other pleasures than those, which are merely sensual and 
earthly, or at best, have been strangers to the superior 
delights of communion with God ; to all such I Call, to 
seek after that divine joy, which religion offers and gives 
to her children. Oh, seek after that renovation of heart 
to the likeness and love of God, which is necessary to 
prepare you to relish and delight in his holy and glori- 
ous character. Seek aft^r that faith and interest ia 
Christ, which' are requisite to entitle you to this joy. 
Every motive, taken from tiine and from eternity, urges 
you to this ; for your whole happiness in both is con- 
cerned and wrapped up in it. 

Finally* Let true Christians permit me to be their 
monitor, as to their privilege and duty in this instance. 
Oh, what a singular privilege do you possess, of being 
able to rejoice in the Lord, to rejoice m him at all 
times, in all circumstances ! Oh, bless God for making 
this delightful exercise your constant duty, and thus 
twisting, or rather uniting, your business and happiness 
together in one point ! What an additional motive is 
here to the love of God, who has pleasure in the prosper- 
ity and joy of his servants ! Oh, love the Lord therefore 
all ye his servants, and constantly delight in him. Let 
joyful thanksgiving and praise be a main part of your 
employment here, as it will be your whole and eternal 
employment in heaven. Watch against every things. 



228 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIIL 

which would indispose you for the enjoyments of the 
divine life ; and remember, that by intermitting the ex- 
ercises of the heavenly life you rob yourselves of its 
pleasures. If any of you, by sloth, carnal indul- 
gences, or any other means, have lost that liveliness and 
joy in God and religion, which you once had, call to 
mind whence you are fallen, and what you have lost, and 
repent, and set yourselves to do your first works, and re- 
gain your first love, that you may recover your former 
joy. Thus, from time to time, you should recollect 
yourselves, examine the state of your souls, repair any 
decays, correct any slips you have made, and stir up 
yourselves to take hold of God and his strength. You 
have always reason to suspect, that things are greatly 
amiss within you, when you can take as much pleasure 
as usual, or more, in other things, but not in God or re- 
ligion. Oh, seek then to have the joy of the Lord for 
your constant food and strength ; that, under its influ- 
ence, you may mount up with wings as eagles, and be 
ripening fast for perfect union, love, and enjoyment ia 
heaven o 



®erman xix. 



Delivered at a Concert of Prayer^ 



Matthew vi. 9, 10. 

Hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come ; thy ivill b£ 
done in earthy as it is in heaiicn. 

JL HAT divine form of devotion, of which these 
words are a part, is equally distinguished for its brevity 
and fulness, its plainness and grandeur, its universal 
suitableness and importance. In these several respects, 
it unspeakably transcends the highest productions of 
man. While it unites the interests of heaven and earth, 
of time and eternity, in six short petitions ; it is remark- 
i^ble that three of these, which compose the first part 
of the prayer, centre in one great object, viz. the declar- 
ative glory of God, consisting in the universal prosper- 
ity of his kingdom, and advanced by the general obe- 
dience, order, and happiness of his moral subjects. 
And as the beginning, so the conclusion of this de- 
vout summary, is consecrated to this object; for it 
closes with ascribing the kingdom, the power, and glory 
to the Deity ; and by its significant amen^ it sums up 
the feelings of the petitioner in a strong desire and as- 
surance, that God will manifest this his power and glory 
\xi the universal establishment of his spiritual kingdom. 
The words, then, which I have placed at the head of 
this discourse, and which comprise the first and crowur 
ing part of this perfect model of supplication, are emi- 
nently suited to the present occasion ; which is not only 



230 ON PRAYER. [Ser. XIX. 

a season of united prayer, but is expressly devoted to 
the object here recommended, viz. the advancement of 
Christ's kingdom in our world. That our prayers on 
a subject so sublime and interesting, and our future cour 
duct pursuant to them, may be properly directed and 
animated, let us attend to the leading instructions, sug- 
gested to us in the concise, but weighty petitions above 
recited. ^ ' Hallowed be thy name ; thy kingdom come *, 
thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven." 

As names are employed to signify, or convey the 
knowledge of things, so the name of God, in the text, 
signifies the Deity himself, as made known by his word, 
institutions and works. When God was pleased, at the 
request of his favourite servant, to proclaim his name 
and to show his glory ; these were the ingredients of 
that comprehensive display- — " The Lord, the Lord 
God, gracious and merciful, long suffering, and abun- 
dant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thous- 
ands, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, and who 
will by no means clear the guilty." This divine name, 
announced to Moses, and more obscurely published by 
the ancient prophets, is fully illustrated by Jesus Christ, 
by the whole series of his actions, sufferings and doc- 
trines ; which unitedly exhibit the rich and endearing 
mercy of Jehovah, in connexion with his awful majesty, 
justice and truth. While the law and gospel thus pub- 
lish the name of God, his various works of nature, 
providence and grace, by harmonizing with and fulfill- 
ing his word, add lustre and confirmation to every part 
of his revealed name, and spread abroad its glory, as 
ihe earth and planets receive and reflect the splendour of 
the sun. 

Accordingly, God's name is hallovjed or consecrated, 
when it is conspicuously and eminently honoured ; jus^ 



Ser. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 231 

as the consecrated persons and things under the law 
were peculiarly dignified by their separation to holy 
puiposes. To pray, therefore, for the sanctification of 
the di^ ine name, implies a request, that the various at- 
tributes, which compose this name, may be displayed 
and extolled by the whole created universe : in paitic- 
tilar, that intelligent creatures, especially the human race, 
may unitedly offer to their Creator those inward senti- 
ments and outward expressions of veneration and love, 
which are most suitable and honourary to so glorious 
an object, and which best comport with the various dis- 
coveries of his character ; and finally, that he would 
piake all things, even the partial and temporary evils of 
our system, ultimately conduce to the greatest glory of 
his name. 

The two next clauses of the text, " Thy kingdom 
come, thy will be done," are intimately connected with 
the first, as means with the end. By God's kingdom 
here is intended, not his general providential govern- 
ment, which has been erected and administered from the 
creation, and whose coming therefore is not an object of 
prayer ; but his mediatorial and gracious kingdom. 
This comprehends that external administration, by which 
he calls men to the profession of the true religion, and 
gives them outward laws, ordinances, and privileges ; 
also that internal dominion, by which he effectually sub- 
dues, sanctifies, and comforts their hearts, and which 
the apostle accordingly describes, as consisting ir^ 
righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost ; and 
finally, that heavenly state of glory, which is the perfec^ 
tion of the t^vo former ; for the kingdom of God on 
earth, both in its visible and invisible duties and bless- 
ings, is but a handmaid, or a prepai'atory discipline tq 
the kingdom of heaven. 



232 ON PRAYER. [Ser. XIX. 

When, therefore, we pray that God's kingdom may 
come, we request the universal spread of the gospel, 
both in its external and inward dispensation, and the 
consequent reign of virtue, peace, and felicity, through 
the whole family of mankind. We ask the full ac- 
complishment of tlie great plan of mediatorial mercy, 
not only in the expected glory of the latter days, but in 
the far more glorious and happy state of things which 
will finally succeed. And since the honour of a king 
as well, as the beauty and happiness of his empire, great- 
ly depends on the prompt and entire obedience of his 
subjects ; we pray that the will of our divine Sovereign 
may be done on eartli, as it is in heaven ; that is, that it 
]may be performed by us, and by mankind at large, in a 
manner resembling, as nearly as possible, the obedience 
of celestial spirits ; with the same speed and alacrity, 
purity and exactness p humility and veneration, constancy 
and fervour. 

As these several petitions thus point to the work of 
redemption, or the Christian interest, and pray for its 
general triumph ; so they remarkably suit each succes- 
sive period, or varying condition of the church, from the 
beginning to this day. During the patriarchal and 
Mosaic dispensations, the coming of God's kingdoni 
under the promised Messiah was the immediate and 
great object of prayer to the Old Testament saints. 
When the Messiah appeared, and began to erect his gos- 
pel kingdom, the immediate object of the petitions be- 
fore us, as presented to, and used by, his primitive disci- 
ples, was the extension of this new dispensation from 
Judea thiQiighout the world. We, in this later period 
of the world, being presented by the word and provi- 
dence of God, with the near prospect of a still more 
glorious dispensation of grace, in a far more general 



Seh. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 233 

diffusion than has yet existed, of the Christian doctrine 
and spirit ; %ve are hereby directed to apply the petitions 
before us more immediately to this approaching event : 
while those, who shall enjoy this expected, happy 
dispensation, will still long and pray for the more illustri- 
ous and final coming of Christ in his kingdom of glory. 

Having briefly illustrated the prayer of our text, let us 
attend more distinctly to its superior importafice ; or to 
the sacred motives and obligations, which persuade 
us to adopt it. 

In the first place, the rank which it bears in this divine 
pattern of devotion proclaims its peculiar moment. The 
interest and honour of God's name and kingdom are 
justly held up as the beginning, centre, and end of the 
Lord's prayer, both because the perfections and glory 
of the Supreme Being deservedly claim our first and 
supreme attention ; and because true love to him, which 
is the soul of religion and of acceptable prayer, unites 
the heart to his interest, as its principal object ; and of 
course makes it desire above all things the prosperity of 
the Redeemer's kingdom. 

The scripture represents the work of redemption, as 
the greatest of divine operations, and as giving the most 
perfect display of the divine character, as reflecting trans- 
cendent glory on all the persons and perfections of Deity. 
Consequently, the more this work flourishes, or the 
more eminently the kingdom of grace prevails, the more 
splendid is the triumph of the divine name ; die larger is 
the revenue of glory to the Father, the Son, and the Ho- 
ly Ghost. Must not every soul, which possesses the 
genuine feelings of piety, be instantly warmed by this 
consideration into ardent prayers and efforts for the ad- 
vancement of Christ's kingdom ? The prophet Isaiah, 
having a distant glimpse of the surprising glory, which 



^4 ^ Ql^ PRAYER. tSER. XIX^ 

would redound to the blessed God by the redemption of 
man, is so enraptured by it, that he fervently calls even 
upon inanimate nature, to burst forth into joyful praise 
on the great occasion — -" Bing, oh heavens, for the Lord 
hath done it ; shout, ye lower parts of the earth : break 
forth into singing, ye mountains, oh forest, and every 
tree therein ; for the Lord hath redeemed Jacob, and 
glorified himself in Israel . ' ' 

How peculiarly incumbent, then, is it upon us^ who ar0 
at once God's rational creatures, and the special objects 
of his glorious redeeming mercy, to begin and end ail 
our offices of devotion, with fervent praises for the' 
work of redemption, and with earnest prayers for its 
promised, more extensive success I How important i& 
it, that this object should pervade and sanctify the- 
whole contexture of our devotions on every occasion, 
especially such as the present \ Otherwise, our relig^ 
ious addresses will proceed on a wrong principle, and 
breathe a^i improper and selfish spirits 

The reason of things as well, as the arrangement of 
the Lord's prayer, instructs us to ask for other bles- 
sings chiefly as means to this governing end; to ask 
our daily bread, or needed external good, not merely as 
an instrument of animal, much less of sinful gratifica- 
tion ; but as requisite or conducive to our serving the 
purposes of his kingdom ; yea, to beg the forgiveness 
of our sins, and deliverance from temptation and all 
evil, not barely for selfish ends, but that God's honour 
and kingdom may be promoted by our' pardon,.- sanc- 
tification, and final happiness, and by our correspon- 
dent, everlasting returns of service and praise. ' 

In a word, the petitions in the text.are of such prima- 
ry importance, that they ought both to consecrate and 
limit all our other desires ; so that we should feel wilL 



Ser. XIX.] ON PRAYER. ^35 

ing to be denied in the latter so far, as they happen to 
interfere with the former. Those petitions, indeed, 
the grant of which is essential to our final happiness, 
are always consistent, yea, inseparably united, with the 
glory of God and the interest of the Redeemer ; so, that 
in properly seeking the one^ we necessarily seek and se- 
cure the other. Biit those requests, which respect tem^ 
poral good, or some non-essential circumstances of spir- 
itual blessings, may not be always consistent with tlie 
grand object of prayer in the text ; in which case, they 
must be cheerfully submitted and sacrificed to it. In 
this case, the denial of our private inferior petitions is, 
on the whole, the best fulfilment and reward of our 
prayer ; because it gratifies and recompenses our firsts 
disinterested, and crowniing request. 

Our Saviour prayed earnestly, that the bitter cup of 
crucifixion might pass from him, yet with perfect sub* 
mission to the will and glory of his Father. His par- 
ticular request was refused ; because the honour of 
God's decrees, predictions, and attributes in the re- 
demption of man, demanded his death. Yet we are 
told, in the fifth chapter to the Hebrews, that " he was 
heard in these his strong supplications and tears ;" that 
is, his governing desire was granted. His Father, by 
quickly exalting him from the grave to his own right 
hand, and giving him to see of the travail of his soul to 
his abundant satisfaction, rewarded him with a far great- 
er good, than that which he had previously-denied. 

Which leads us to observe, that the proper recom- 
pense and joy of the Redeemer are greatly concerned 
in the petitions before us. The heart of Christ w^as so 
perfectly engaged for his Father's honour and kingdom, 
as connected with our redemption, that he freely sub- 
mitted to immense humiliation and sufferings to secure 
M ni 



236 ON PRAYER. [Ser. XIX. 

these invaluable ends. This was, in a great degree, 
the joy set before him, for which he endured the cross, 
and despised the shame. A leading promise made to 
him by his Father was, that he should see his seed, and 
tliat the pleasure of the Lord should prosper in his 
hand ; that all nations should serve him ; that every 
knee and tongue should pay him homage. When we 
consider how richly Christ has merited this promised 
reward ; how much he laboured, prayed, and suffered 
in order to obtain it ; what an eminent claim he had to 
be exalted both by God and man, who has done and 
indured so much for the interests of both : when we 
contemplate these things, can we avoid feeling the 
strongest incentives to pray for that, which is the fa- 
vourite object, recompense, and harvest of all his toils 
and sufferings ! 

Especially when we add, that the advancement of 
Christ's kingdom is an event unspeakably glorious 
and happy. It is glorious ; as the character and gov- 
ernment of this divine King are absolutely perfect. 
While the dominion of the greatest and best earthly 
rulers is weak, and mutable, and transitory, liable to be 
obstructed and even subverted, by domestic or foreign 
resistance ; the empire of the Son of God is, like him- 
self, immoveable and everlasting. While the authority 
of earthly kings can regulate only the visible conduct, 
and secure the temporal interests, of their subjects ; the 
administration of King Jesus controls the secret affec- 
tions, and insures the spiritual and everlasting felicity of 
the soul. While many imperfections mark the intellec- 
tual and moral character, and consequently the official 
conduct, of the best human governors, and of course 
render their administration a feeble, precarious, and in- 
terrupted source of public happiness ; the character of 



Ser. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 237 

Messiah, the Prince, combines unerring wisdom to plan, 
almighty power to execute, invariable justice, benevo- 
lence, and mercy to prompt and direct all his knowl- 
edge and energy to tlie highest good of his sub- 
jects. 

How transcendent must be the prosperity of that holy 
community, which obeys the laws, and enjoys the pro- 
tection, of this glorious Sovereign ! What a golden age 
of the world must that be, in which his benign govern- 
ment shall immediately embrace the whole brotherhood 
of man ! Figure to yourselves, my hearers, the divine 
religion of Jesus enthroned in the hearts, in the families, 
and in all the societies of mankind ! What an aggregate 
of private and public happiness is the immediate result ! 
Behold each indi^•idual emancipated from the vile and 
destru(!tive tyranny of sin and Satan, and restored to in- 
ward freedom, purity, and joy ! See every family pos- 
sessing that domestic harmony and bliss, which flows 
from mutual love and fidelity among its several mem- 
bers, and from the constant, delightful experience of the 
divine benediction upon their common cares, endear- 
ments, and satisfactions ! Behold every civil society en- 
joying that public liberty and defence, prosperity and 
greatness, internal and external peace, which naturally 
arise from the universal prevalence of private and social 
virtue among its various members and rulers ! See the 
benevolent principles of Christianity cementing them all 
into one harmonious bod}', and devoting their several 
functions, their united affections and efforts to the gen- 
eral welfare ! See each member loving his neighbour as 
himself, cheerfully losing private interest in the public 
good, steadily practising those personal, patriotic, and 
divine virtues, which nourish and perfect human soci- 
ety, and at once zealously promoting, and delightfully 



238 ON PRAYEK. [Ser. XIX, 

enjoying, the virtuous and happy state of every fellow 
member, and of the community at large ! 

As these would be the natural fruits of the gospel spirit 
universally prevailing ; so Christ himself would then be 
the king and protector of our world in a peculiar and emi- 
nent nianner. All his high attributes and authority would 
be exerted for its temporal and spiritual welfare. All 
the nations would enjoy the direct influences of his wise, 
eiiicacious, and benevolent administration, and be mould- 
ed by it into one vast empire of righteousness and joy, 
Whoj that has any friendship either to God or man, 
can help exulting ^ the thought of so glorious and hap^ 
py a scene, and contributing his best wishes and pray^ 
eys for its speedy arrival ! 

Especially when M^e consider- further, how frequently 
and expressly the scriptures predict and promise such 
a blessed period, as we have just described. The Bible 
often speaks of a time, when the heathen and uttermost 
parts of the earth shall be given to Christ ; when the 
earth shall be hiled with the knowledge of the Lord, as 
the waters cover the sea ; when the fulness of the Gen- 
tiles shall come in, and all Israel be saved ; when anti- 
christ shall be destroyed, and Satan bound a thousand 
years; when war shall universally cease, and piety, 
peace, and happiness abound through the world! There 
is no period in the history of past ages, which corres^ 
pqnds with these magnificent, scriptural prophecies. 
We are, therefore, warranted and encouraged to expect 
and pray for their future accomplishment, and we ought 
to pray for it with that assurance of faith, which such 
express divine declarations require, and with that ardour 
and constancy, which their excellent and happy import 
demands. 



Ser. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 239 

It is also further to be considered, that the M'hole crea- 
tion is earnestly waiting, and constantly groaning and 
travailing in pain for this glorious event. The apostle, 
in the eighth chapter to the Romans, introduces the 
whole frame of visible nature, the insensible and brutal 
as well, as intelligent creation, as vehemently desiring, 
expecting, yea, travailing in pain for this happy period. 
The general sentiment of this remarkable passage seems 
to be this ; that man's apostasy has brought such van- 
ity, disorder, and bondage upon the creation around 
him ; has subjected them to such an unnatural and mis- 
erable state from the abuse of man and the curse of 
God, that they may be said to groan under the weight 
of this servitude, and to pant for liberty ; to groan after 
a restoration to their primitive perfection and use. This 
passage further intimates, that when the kingdom of 
Christ shall come in its glory, all nature shall, in some 
sense, participate its happy fruits ; all the animal and 
material creation shall, in a great measure, be rescued 
from the effects of the curse, and be made to serve the 
real benefit of man, and the honour of their God. As 
the prophet represents it, '^ holiness to the Lord shall 
be written upon the very bells of the horses, and every 
pot in Jerusalem shall be holiness to the Lord of hosts." 
Shall not we then, whose apostasy has contributed to 
this debasement and misery of nature, join the general 
groan and cry of the travailing creation, in ardently 
praying for its expected, happy deliverance ; when not 
only man, but the creatures connected with him, shall, 
in some important sense, be regenerated from the bon- 
dage of corruption imto the glorious liberty of the sons 
of God? 

We may add, that fervent and constant prayer for 
the coming of Christ's kingdom is one of the best proofs 



240 ON PRAYER. [Seb. XIX. 

of a truly enlarged and benevolent mind, of a spiritual 
and divine temper. It is represented in scripture, as 
the peculiar character of the saint, that he is a friend to 
Zion ; that he loves, waits, and pmysfor her prosperity ; 
that he takes pleasure in the very stones of Jerusalem, 
^nd favours even the dust thereof. Whence it appears, 
that a spirit of prayer for the advancement of the Chris- 
tian interest is necessary to prove our own Christianity. 
Without it we have no scriptural evidence, that we have 
any true love to Christ, to his church, or to the human 
race. But affectionate and unceasing supplication for 
the general spread and success of the gospel at once dis- 
covers and improves a spirit of friendship to God and the 
Redeemer, to the Christian religion and church, to the 
best interests of mankind, and in some sense to the per- 
fection and felicity of the moral system in general. For 
the scriptures lead us to think, that the knowledge, vir- 
tue, and happiness of the various orders of the angelic 
world, are greatly promoted by the display of divine 
glory in the design and gradual progress of man's res* 
toration to holiness and happiness. In praying, there- 
fore, for this object, we virtually intercede for the uni- 
verse ; we concur and have fellov»/'ship with the infinite^ 
ly benevolent Deity in that, which is his favourite de- 
sign ; and tlius we approve ourselves his genuine 
children. 

In short, fervent prayer for the advancement of 
Christ's kingdom is an exercise equally noble, pleas- 
ant, and advantageous. It is noble, as it implies the 
most generous, godlike views and desires. It is pleas^ 
Oiit, as it expresses and promotes that love to God and 
his creatures, which is the very temper of happiness ; 
and, as it is attended with a delightful consciousness of 
resembling and pleasing the Being, w^hom we address, 



Ser.XIX.] on prayer, ' 241 

and with a comforting assurance, that our pious and be- 
nevolent petitions will be ultimately answered. It is 
advantageous^ as it directly sweetens and exalts our 
spirits ; as it engages us to such a conduct, or to the 
careful use of such means, as may best correspond with 
our prayers, and give them the greatest force and suc- 
cess ; and, as it is connected, by divine constitution, 
widi the attainment of the important blessing we implore. 
As prayer, in general, when rightly performed, emi- 
nently qualifies dependent creatures for the reception of 
divine favours, and is therefore properly made the con- 
dition of their bestowment ; so, intercession for our fel- 
low-creatures, especially for the revival and prevalence 
of religion among them, is, with great reason, prescribed 
as a mean of drawing down this infinite blessing. For 
since earnest prayer for this object implies and promotes 
a disposition, and pursues an end, highly acceptable and 
honorary to God, and eminendy conducive to the gen- 
eral good ; the Supreme Being must surely be disposed 
to encourage and reward such intercession, by granting 
some signal tokens of his approbation. Accordingly, 
the Bible abounds wdth precepts and examples, encour- 
agements and promises, intended to animate Christians 
to frequent and earnest supplication for this comprehen- 
sive mercy. The Lord's prayer, as we have already 
shewn, is a standing prescription to this effect. When 
God, by his prophet Ezekiel, had promised his people 
a rich aggregate of temporal and spiritual blessings, he 
adds, that he would be inquired of by the house of Israel 
to do this for them. In another passage he represents 
himself, as waiting for his people's prayers, to prepare 
the way for the bestowment of special favours on his 
church. Yea, he describes himself, as hastening to 
confer these blessings, while they are only beginning to 



242 ' ON PRAYER. [Skr. XIX. 

call upon him ; and to crown the whole, he speaks of 
himself, as being at their command, with regard to mer- 
cies of this nature. Agreeably, the remarkable efficacy 
of this species of prayer is exemplified by many pas- 
sages, both in sacred and ecclesiastical history, and by 
some memorable events in the annals of our country. 

These motives to prayer for the revival and spread of 
religion, are greatly enforced by the complexion of the 
world at the present day, and the wonderful dispensa- 
tions of providence, which are passing over it. Many 
causes and events are now signally conspiring to pre- 
pare mankind for such a new and glorious state of 
things, as the Bible predicts. 

In this view^ we might particularly mention the rapid 
destruction of the papal hierarchy ; the hastening and 
general downfal of religious fraud and tyranny, super- 
stition and bigotry; the swift progress of knowledge 
and free inquiry, of mutual candour and Catholicism 
among the different Christian denominations ; the un- 
rivalled extension and efficacy, which are given to the 
means of early education ; the accelerated improve- 
ments of mankind^n the science of civil government 
and liberty ; and in the various arts, which adorn and 
meliorate human society. 

At the same time, these scientific, political, and religious 
advantages, are found, by experiment, utterly insufficient to 
reform the moral character of the age. Instead of this, they 
are, in many instances, giving birth and nourishment to 
greater errors and vices, both in the religio^us and polit- 
ical world, than perhaps ever before disgraced the his- 
tory of man. All which is evidently adapted to con- 
vince mankind, by their own experience, of the incffi- 
cacy of boasted human reason and virtue, and the abso- 
lute necessity of that extraordinary divine influence, 



S«R. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 241 

which the scriptures predict, to give due force and di- 
rection to the best external means of reformation and 
happiness. 

As the Holy Spirit, in his sanctifying operations, is 
Ae great summar}^ blessing purchased and promised by 
the Founder of our religion ; and as the general diffu- 
sion of this blessing is frequently represented in scrip- 
ture, as the main source and ingredient of the glory and 
felicity of the latter days, and of course the leading ob- 
ject of Christian intercession ; so the progress of things 
in the world, at this day, must impress serious observ- 
ers with the special importance and duty of earnestljr 
praying for this favour, in such a pressing crisis of hu- 
man affairs. 

The professed friends of Christianity are now loudly 
called, by the voice of providence, to distinguish them- 
selves in this way from the numerous tribe of speculative 
and practical infidels. While this careless Or scoffing de- 
scription of men deride either the whole doctrine of a fu- 
ture more glorious state of the Christian church, or at least 
of a special divine agency in producing it ; while they 
fondly ascribe the expected regeneration of the world to 
a train of common, natural causes, and ridicule the pre- 
tended propriety and utility of prayer, as a preparatory 
mean of effecting it ; let us, both by avowed sentiment 
and practice, steadily hold forth the opposite truths. 
Let us openly testify to the world, that in our view it is 
both philosophical and scriptural for dependent and de- 
generate creatures solemnly and unitedly to own their 
dependence and degeneracy, and the all-sufficient power 
and grace of their Creator, by imploring this needed 
and promised influence, both for themselves and their 
N n 



244 ON PRAYER. [SiR. Xl't 

fellow-men. Let us endeavour to convince all around 
us, that there is no more superstition or enthusiasm ift 
resorting to prayer, as a medium of spiritual blessings, 
than in using proper means in other cases to obtain 
valuable ends. 

To impress this conviction more strongly as well, as 
to give life and sviccess to our prayers, let us follow 
them with a suitable practice. Let none of us take 
refuge in this concert of prayer, as a cloak, or compen- 
sation, for allowed hypocrisy or disobedience, or a sub- 
stitute for personal reformation and holiness. Let us 
prove, that we are sincere in lamentin^^ the infidelity and 
vices of the day, and in praying for a general reforma- 
tion, by bewailing and correcting, in the first place, our 
own remaining infidelity and transgressions ; and by 
studiously exliibiting, in our daily temper and conduct, 
that Christian piety and morality, which our prayers 
seem to befriend and promote. Let us esteem this, as 
among the greatest advantages of this visible agreement 
in prayer, that it not only gives new animation and force 
to the petitions of those, who engage in it, and renders 
their united supplications peculiarly pleasing and preva- 
lent with the Most High ; that it not only greatly im- 
proves the Christian union and candour of those various 
denominations, whom it embraces ; but also binds them 
all to exemplary prudence and godliness in their daily 
deportment, and urges them to the most discreet, yet 
vigorous measures, to advance the kingdom of Christ in 
the rising and risen generations around them ; particu- 
larly in the respective families, churches, and neighbour- 
hoods, with which they are severally connected. It is 
the speaker's ardent wish and prayer, that these happy 
fruits may conspicuously mark that seasonable and laud- 



Sir. XIXl ON PRAYER. 245 

able concert of devotion, which has once more brought 
us together ; and that the result of all may be, a re- 
markable fulfilment of ancient prophecies in the exten- 
sion of primitive Christianity in all its transcendent vir- 
tues and blessings. In the enlivening hope of so happy 
inissuei *i Ye, that make mention of theLdrd, keep 
not silence ; and give him no rest, till he establish and 
^lake Jerusalem a praise in the earth." 



40 



©ermon xx. 



The Spirit, Employment, and Design of 
the Christian Ministry.* 



Ephesians iii. 8, 9, 10. 

Unto me, vjho am less than the least of all saints^ is this 
grace given^ that I should preach among the Gentiles 
the unsearchable riches of Christ ; and to make all men 
see vjhat is the felloxvship of the mystery, which from 
the beginniJig of the world hath been hid in Gody %vho 
created all things by Jesus Christ : To the intent y that 
now, unto the principalities and powers in hea'uenly 
places J might be known by the church the manifold wis- 
dom of God. 

P 

JL ERHAPS no passage of scripture gives a more 
amiable and exalted view of the spirit, employment, and 
design of the Christian ministry, than the words just 
recited. The humble and grateful spirit of a good min-^ 
i&ter is forcibly expressed in this remarkable clause : 
*' To me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this 
grace given." His employment is summed up ia 
preaching " the unsearchable riches of Christ." The 
design pf his office is to hold up, not only to men on 
earth, but "to principalities and powers in heavenly 
places" the manifold display of Deity in the work of 
redemption. 

« Deljvei*ed at the Ordination of the Rev. W. 1^- Channin^^ in Boston, 
June 1st, 1803. 



SfiR. XX.] ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 247 

We will attend, in the First place, to the lowly and 
thankful spirit, which becomes the gospel minister. 
This temper is peculiarly required and promoted by the 
Christian revelation, by the leading complexion of its 
facts and doctrines, of its precepts and blessings. It ev-, 
er accompanies and distinguishes evangelical piety and 
virtue from their first rise in the human heart to their fi- 
nal perfection and reward. As Christianity is the relig- 
ion of sinners, so a cordial reception of it must presup- 
pose and powerfully cherish a humbling sense of per- 
sonal guilt and depravity, and a disposition to ascribe 
the needed blessings of pardon, holiness, and eternal 
life, to the infinite mercy of God, operating through the 
perfect atonement of his Son. Accordingly, the habit- 
ual views and exercises of every real Christian harm^o- 
nize with the prayer of the publican, '' God be merciful 
to me a sinner;" with the acknowledgment of our 
apostle, "by the grace of God I am, what I am ;" and 
with the song of the heavenly hosts : " Salvation to our 
God, who sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb." 

As the spirit, expressed in the text, characterizes ev- 
ery penitent believer, so it eminently suits the profes- 
sion of a Christian minister. His official studies and re- 
ligious addresses constantly place before him the awful 
presence and majesty, the infinite holiness and grace pf 
God, the wonderful condescension and sacrifice of 
Christ, the dependent and wretched condition of apos- 
tate man, the duty and importance of humble repent- 
ance and thankful praise on the part of redeemed sin- 
ners, and his own peculiar obligations to divine rr^ercy 
for making him not only a partaker, but a public herald 
of the gospel salvation. Can we wonder, that these 
combined ideas roused in the bosom of Paul the most 
humble and grateful emotions ? Ought they not to pro- 



248 ON THp CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser.XX. 

duce similar effects on every minister ? Can a man, who 
is a stranger to these sehtinients and affections, be qual- 
ified to enforce them on others ? Can he skilfully anc( 
tenderly administer that spiritual medicine, the necessi* 
ty and value of which he does not perceive, whose heal- 
ing and comforting efficacy he has never felt ? Can hp 
suitat^ly lead the devotions of Christians, who has never 
imbibkd the gospel spirit ; whose heart has never been 
tuned to the harmony of Christian love and praise ? In 
short, the soul of a minister must be cast in the humble 
mould of Christianity, before he can relish and faithful- 
ly perform the condescending and self-denying duties of 
his office ; befpre he can readily become all things to all 
men, and even take pleasure in instructing, reproving^ 
or comforting the weakest and lowest forms of human 
nature. On the altar of Christian humility he must sac^ 
rifice that fondness for human applause, mental luxury, 
or worldly emolument ; that pride of literary, xninisteri? 
al, or moral eminence ; that unfeeling or haughty neg- 
lect of the common people, which superior station, 
t;nowledge, and fame, assisted by human frailty or cor- 
ruption, are apt to inspire, To subdue these evils, and 
to nourish the opposite virtues, the Christian pastor 
must early and deeply imbibe the self-abasing, yet enno- 
bling views presented in our text. 

We grant, that Paul had special reasons for adopting 
the humble and admiring language before us. He bad 
been a violent persecutor and blasphemer of Christ and 
his gospel. The sovereign power and merc^ of the 
Redeemer had suddenly arrested his mad career, and 
conferred on him, not only the temper and blessedness 
pf a Christian believer, but the high character of a Chris- 
tian apostle. He had been furnished for diis office, had 
pten supported and prospered in its execution, in ^ 



Sir. XX.] ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 2i# 

manner truly extraordinary, and probably unexampled 
even in that age of miracles. The affecting contrast 
between his former and present condition perpetually 
dwelt on his mind. It sunk him in his own estimation 
below the least of saints, while it raised him above the 
highest in his fer^-ent and exalted ascriptions to the grace 
of God. 

But 'while the circumstances and feelings of Paul 
w^ere in some respects peculiar ; we must remark, that 
the spirit of the sincere Christian and minister is essen- 
tially the same in all, who possess it. The most amia- 
ble temper, the best education, the most improved intel- 
lect, and the greatest exterior decorum and virtue, can- 
not raise their subjects above the necessity and obli- 
gation of evangelical faith and repentance. And whoev- 
er cordially repents of sin, and embraces the gospel, ^vill 
readily unite with our apostle in esteeming himself less 
than the least of all saints, and in ascribing all his privi- 
leges and hopes to the riches of divine mercy. It may 
reasonably be expected, that these humble and grateful 
emotions will keep pace with his general progress in re- 
ligious knowledge and virtue, comfort and usefulness ; 
because his materials for and incitements to them will in- 
crease in this proportion. Real, and especially advanc- 
ed Christians are far more intimately acquainted with 
themselves, than they can be with any of their brethren. 
Their spiritual senses are particularly nice and tender in 
discerning and feeling their own defects and transgres- 
sions. Their charity suggests in behalf of the offences 
of others many excuses and extenuations, which a strict- 
er knowledge or jealousy of their own characters dares 
not apply to themselves. Hence those professors and 
ministers of the gospel, who are truly eminent in their 
profession, are generally distinguished by a modest, and 
charitable deportment. 



250 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser.XX., 

We may add, the good minister is nourished in hu- 
mility and pious gratitude, by contemplating his honour- 
able, sacred, and arduous employment. He compares 
his own weakness, impurity, and demerit, with the high 
nature and demands of his station. And while this com- 
parison fills him with ingenuous shame and trembling 
solicitude ; it awakens thankful astonishment, that God 
should advance so mean a creature to an office so digni- 
iied ; that he should select and assist so feeble an instru- 
ment to accomplish a work so difficult and glorious. 
This brings us 

Secondly, To consider the employment of a Christian 
minister. It is here expressed by " preaching the 
unsearchiible riches of Christ." 

These *' unsearchable riches" may denote the person- 
al excellencies of the Redeemer. Thus understood, 
they point us to the wonderful assemblage of divine and 
human perfections in that mysterious Person, wiiose 
name is Immanuel, who is the image and effulgence of 
his Father's glory, in whom dv/ells all the fulness of the 
Godhead, to whom the titles and attributes, the works 
and honours of divinity are ascribed ; w^ho yet w^as made 
flesh and tabernacled among us ; who, amid the natural 
infirmities and temptations, exhibited all the virtues of 
humanity, in their full and steady lustre. What treas^ 
ures of majesty and meekness, of dignity and conde- 
scension, of glory and humility, of justice and mercy, 
are united in his character ! In his person and actions, 
combined with his discourses, the invisible God is 
brought dow^n to man, that man might rise to die true 
knowledge, imitation, and enjoyment of God. 

The "riches of Christ" may also include his media- 
torial character and fulness ; his great offices and works, 
^s the Instructor and High Priest, the Ruler and Judge 



Spr.XX.] on the christian ministry. 1251 

of thp world. His instructions, as recorded in the sa- 
cred history, were admirably recommended by tiieir 
simplicity and authority, by their harmony and variety, 
by their fulness and grandeur. They set before us the 
most interesting and sublime objects, in their native 
majesty, and in the most familiar light. They give us 
the most needful and satisfactory information ^\idire. 
spect both to God and ourselves. They contain noth- 
ing, which is merely curious, puzzling, or dry ; noth- 
ing, which savours of superstition, or fanaticism, of^ 
learned subtlety, or worldly policy. The ti'uths, which 
they unfold, oblige and animate believers to universal 
holiness. The morality, which they inculcate, while it 
immediately grows out of these truths, embraces the 
widest range, the noblest principles and offices of vir- 
tue. In short, the doctrine of this divine teacher, duly 
entertained, enriches both the understanding and heart ; 
it exalts them into a happy correspondence with the 
great objects presented. *' Beholding in" this " glass the 
glory of the Lord, we are changed into the same image 
from glory to glory." While the instructions of Christ 
thus enlighten and purify, his atonement brings u s pardon 
and comfort. To a creature burdened with conscious 
guilt, and acquainted with the perfect character and law 
of his Maker, how congenial, how welcome is the Chris- 
tian scheme of mediation ! How consoling to hear, that 
the Son of God has become the High Priest of offend- 
ing man ; that, by his obedience unto death, he has 
completely vindicated and honoured the divine govern- 
ment, and procured the full and everlasting forgiveness 
of every penitent sinner ? It is the part of tlie evangelical 
preacher to state this doctrine in its most simple and 
practical form ; to point out its importance in the sys- 
tem of revelation, its correspondence with the present 
o o 



SS2^ ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Sivii. X5t. 

situation of man, with the general course of providence, 
and with the essential attributes of God. It becom€s^ 
him to show how admirably this expedient unites the 
pardon of relenting guilt, and the reward of defective- 
virtue, with th^e public condemnation of sin, the im- 
proved order of the universe, and the most pure and ex- 
alted display of divine glory. It biecomes him to de- 
fend this doctrine from every imputation of absurdity, 
of injustice, or cruelty, by showing, that the Father ap- 
pointed, and the Son consented, to the death of the 
cross, from motives of the most tender, wise, and com- 
prehensive love ; that the good resulting from it will be 
unbounded and eternal ; and that the pardon of offend- 
ers through this medium displays the divine benevo- 
lence in a manner, far more extraordinary, multiplied, 
and impressive, than if God had cancelled our guilt by 
one single and sovereign act of grace. The faithful in- 
structer wiU also hold up the intercession of Christ in 
its scriptural impart and beauty. He will show, that the 
constant and successful agency of this illustrious advo- 
cate in behalf of offending man greatly exalts both the 
Father and Son ; w^hile it effectually humbles and en- 
courages believers in their sincere, though imperfect 
axits of worship and obedience. With what boldness 
may we draw near to the Holy of Holies, when we see 
our persons represented, and our interests espoused by 
this great High Priest ! With what humility, repentance, 
and awe, are we inspired, when we find, that no less a 
person than the Son of God, can give us access to the 
presence of infinite purity ! 

This leads us to observe, that the riches of Christ in 
his sacerdotal office^ are intimately connected with his 
regal authority. His mediation was designed, not to 
countenance, but to condemn and extinguish our re- 



Sxtt.XX] ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 253 

bellion against the divine government. It was intend- 
ed not to cancel, but to multiply and enforce our moral 
obligations ; to give them a con^imanding influence on 
our tempers and jives. To accomplish this purpose, 
apd to reward pur Redeemer for his meritorious humil- 
iation, the Father has in\ested him with " all power in 
heaven and earth," and in particular has made him 
'' Head over all things to the church." This mediato- 
rial Kinghas given his subjects a perfect constitution of 
government to direct their faith, to animate their obe- 
dience, and to ensure their felicity. He has appointed 
pfficers to intei*pret and enforce this constitution. He 
administers all the affairs of providence for the good of 
his spiritual empire. He sends forth his Spirit to give- 
due effect to this mighty apparatus, and to render i$r^' 
'•' the power of God to salvation." How pleasing to 
remark, that, while the law of Christ, in its doctrines, 
prescriptions, and ^notives, is wonderfully fitted to de- 
5troy the power of sin, and establish the interest of hoH- 
i^ess, this provision is made successful by an inwardr 
and divine operation, wjiich begins and matures in our 
hearts the temper and happiness of the sons of God ! 
How comforting the assurance, that the gospel, like a 
sacred leaven, shall gradually pervade and assimilate the: 
whole lump of mankind, till all the kingdoms of the 
world are become the kingdom of our Lord and his 
Christ! When his church is thus completed, this me^ 
diatorial Sovereign will assume the character of a Judge. 
He will display his divine power, discernment, and jus- 
tice, in raising the dead, in convening them before his 
tribunal, in unfolding to public view the moral charac- 
ter of each, in pronouncing and executing the final sen- 
tence, which dooms his enemies to hopeless punishr 
laent, and instates his friends in the happiness and glp. 



254 O^r THE CHRISTIAN MINitStRY. [Ser. XX. 

ry of his eternal kingdom. My brethren, what un- 
searchable riches of knowledge and goodness, of merit 
aiid faithfulness, of divine energy and perseverance, 
are exhibited by our Redeemer, in discharging these 
high employments ? How immense the blessings, which 
result from their execution 1 « 

Which brings us to add, that '* the riches of Christ'* 
refer to the benefits, which his mediation has procured, 
and his gospel confers. These benefits include, not on- 
ly the complete remission of past oiFences, but the re- 
covered image and friendly intercourse of our Creator, 
with the animating hope, and ultimate possession, of a 
blessed immortality. They also comprise those put- 
ward ordinances, which sensibly ratify these invisible 
blessings; which assist our contemplation, pursuit, and 
enjoyment of them ; and engage us to corresponding 
affections and duties. They comprehend the just and 
merciful conditions, to which the gospel salvation is 
annexed; together with the offer and conveyance of 
that divine influence, which enables us to perform 
thefti. These conditions may be summed tip in evan- 
gelical faith, with its genuine fruits. The requirement 
of this cordial and practical belief is not a cajpricious or 
arbitrary demand, but a proper, needful, and gra^ 
Cious prescription. For this faith yields due honour 
both to God and the Mediator. It freely submits to 
the divine government and mercy. It gives the saving 
truth an operative existence in our minds; and thus 
imparts to us its holy and happy effects. But unbelief, 
either in speculation, temper, or practice, implicitly dcr 
nies both the Father and the Son. It spurns the only 
remedy, which can give health and peace to the dis- 
tempered soul. Of course, it necessarily confirms 
the moral sickness and death of the patient. In 



Ser.XX.] on the christian ministry. 255 

this view, the threatening of destruction, which die 
gospel denounces upon infidels, is a rich display of wis- 
dom, equity, and kindness. It is wise and just, as it 
arms this divine religion with sanctions equal to its im- 
portance. It is kind, as it seasonably warns offenders of 
their danger, and compels them by the great law of self 
preservation to escape from impending ruin, and to lay 
hold on eternal life. 

We have enumerated the leading topics of evangelical 
instruction, as denoted by the *' unsearchable riches of 
Christ ;" and it may be useful to add, that the original 
word here rendered /?rd'<3fcA, literally intends to e^uange/izcy 
or to publish a joyful message. The connexion further 
implies, that, to answer this description, our preaching, 
or publication, must mainly centre in Christ and his 
redemption. As Jesus Christ is declared to be ** the 
chief comer stone" of the spiritual fabric, which was 
reared by the prophets and apostles ; so their humble 
successors in these last days must build on the same 
foundation. When the Christian preacher discourses 
on natural religion and morality, he should represent 
them paying homage to Jesus, as their great Restorer 
and Exemplar, and binding their votaries to a new set 
of moral duties, created by the new discoveries of the 
gospel. If he treat of the ancient dispensations of 
providence and of religion, and in particular of the laws 
and predictions delivered to the Hebrews ; he should 
hold up these as either prefiguring or gradually introduc- 
ing the PROMISED Seed, in whom all the nations of the 
earth should be blessed. If he inculcate Christian du- 
ties, he should enforce them chiefly by evangelical mo-- 
tives. Would he rouse the secure ? Let him urge not 
only the purity and the curse of the divine law, but thd 
awful display of human guilt and infinite justice in the^ 



*i56 ON the: christian ministry. [Ser. XX. 

death of Christ, and the aggravated doom incurred by 
those, who neglect this great . salvation. Would he 
guide and encourage the anxious and desponding soul ? 
Let him hold up the riches of the Saviour, and invite 
the poor, heavy laden sinner to come for divine treasures,: 
for spiritual and eternal rest. Would he comfort and 
invigorate the Christian ? Let him bring up to view the, 
peculiar aids, supports, and re wards,, insured to him by 
the FAITHFUL ANB TRUE WiTNEss. In short, the 
gospel is ah unbounded treasury, from which the wise 
and good steward may dispense portions suitable to all 
the varieties, and equal to all the wants of reasonable, 
lapsed, immortal beings. The riches here deposited are 
indeed unsearchable. Their worth cannot be estimatr 
ed. Their amount exceeds calculation. As they 
could not be discovered by human reason, and were but 
faintly revealed under tlie Jewish economy ; so they 
cannot be fully comprehended by the most illuminated 
Christian, nor even by the highest angel. This train 
of thought brings us, in the 

Third place. To the design of the gospel ministry. 
This design respects tlje inhabitants both of earth pid 
of heaven; . 

I. The immediate object of Christian preaching is the 
instruction of mmikmd, or, in the language of the text, 
** to make all men' sgc what is the fellowship of the myste-" 
ry, which from the beginning of the Vv'orld hath been hid 
in God." The gospel is here styled a '^mystery" or 
secret^ because in the early ages it "was hid in God ;" 
that is, it was either wholly concealed in the divine^ 
breast, or imparted only to a few, or couched in dark 
predictions and types. The ancient church received 
such hints of this merciful plan, as suited her infant state, 
and the wise preparatory discipline under which she \vsL^ 



sbr.xx.!i on the christian ministry. 257 

placed. The great body even of pious Hebrews had 
faint, and, in some respects, erroneous A'iews, both of the 
nature and designed extent of the Messiah's kingdom. 
The equal participation of uncircumcised Gentiles with 
Jews, in the blessings of this kingdom, was a secret, not 
only foreign, but hostile to the favourite ideas and ex- 
pectations of the latter. When this mystery was fully 
disclosed, it filled the apostles with wonder, their He.brew 
converts with regret, and the Jewish unbelie^^ers with 
rage. Hence Paul, who was eminently the minister of 
Christ to the Gentile world, insists much on this 
generous, yet surprising and offensive topic. His 
liberal mind exults in a mission, intended to abolish re- 
ligious distinctions, and to unite all nations into one 
affectionate and happy fraternity. He dwells with rap- 
ture on the grand idea of bringing all men into " the fel- 
lowship" of the gospel, or into a holy communion Avith 
each other under Jesus their common head. This sub- 
lime purpose and effect of Christianity he infers from this 
f^ct, that " God created all things by Jesus Christ." 
As if he should say. It is reasonable to expect, that the 
common Creator of Jews and heathens will be their im- 
partial and benevolent Saviour. 

Agreeably, the merciful promises, given to Adam and 
^oah, were made to the whole human family. The di- 
vine covenant with Abraham ensured spiritual blessings 
to all nations. The selection of the Hebrews, as the 
peculiar people of Jehovah, was a needful and catholic 
provision for the highest good of the world. It render- 
ed that nation the public keepers, witnesses, and propa- 
gators of religious truth, both natural and revealed. It 
made them instruments of preparing mankind for a per- 
fect and universal religion. It still renders them au- 
thentic vouchers to Christianity, and will hereafter sig- 



258 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser. XX. 

nally contribute to its intended establishment and influ- 
ence throughout the globe. 

To carry this grand device into gradual execution, is 
the appropriate business of public Christian instructors. 
They are to expound, confirm, and apply that great 
" mystery," which was early conceived and wrapped 
up in the purpose of God, but which the Son of his 
bosom has fully declared. They should unfold this 
ancient and divine secret in terms so plain, that all men, 
even the lowest, may see it, or obtain such knowledge, 
of it as may guide and mould their affections and prac- 
tice. They should guard against that intellectual van- 
ity or refinement, w^hich would destroy the simplicity^ 
the majesty, and force of sacred truth, by artificial orna- 
ment, or abstruse speculation. They should aim, like 
our apostle, not so much to please the elegant, the met- 
aphysical, or the scientific few, as to impart saving in- 
struction to all. To accomplish this effect, to convey 
the doctrines of salvation into every understanding and 
heart, the preacher must unite perspicuity and energy. 
A mind richly stored with evangelical knowledge and 
goodness, must infuse light and warmth into his dis- 
courses ; while his corresponding example must render 
them doubly luminous and impressive. As the gospel is 
intended to unite all men in holy " fellowship," its min- 
isters should adjust their preaching and conduct to 
this design. They should point the attention of their 
hearers to those great tiniths and duties, which form 
the centre of Christian union. A zealous and joint at- 
tachment to these should temper or extinguish that fire 
of controversy, which divided sentiments and jealous 
feelings about small or doubtful matters have so often 
inflamed. It ill becomes the ministers of Christ to rend 
asunder his mystical body, by substituting the narrow 



Ser.XX.] on the christian MINISTflY. 259 

zeal of a party, in the room of that comprehensive spirit, 
which unites men to God, and to one another. It ill 
becomes them to contend, even. for essential truth, in a 
manner unfavoumble to Christian love, and its practical 
fruits ; for such contention injures both the credit and 
moral influence of truth : it disfigures and endangers the 
gospel church, even by those very doctrines, which, 
rightly entertained, constitute her principal strength and 
beauty. It is by " speaking the truth in love," and bj 
carrying it out into a holy temper and practice, that 
Christians are to grow up into one compact, flourishing, 
and glorious community. 

Let us, then, to whom the dispensation of the gos- 
pel is committed, strive, by our doctrine and spirit, by 
our united exertions and prayers, to make it productive 
of these blessed effects. As stars in the firmament of 
Zion, let us diflTuse the light of evangelical truth, not 
only to the best advantage, but to the widest extent. 
Let our fervent intercessions and labours never rest, 
*' till all men,'^^ even the remotest climes, are brought 
into the Christian " fellowship ;" till the whole earth is 
filled with divine glory and human bliss. Nay, more; 
let our benevolent views expand even beyond the limits 
of our species and world. For, 

IL The Christian religion and ministry were design- 
ed for the benefit of *' principalities and powers in heav- 
enly places." The gospel church and its sacred insti- 
tutions are mirrors, which exhibit to superior intelhgen- 
ces, *^ the manifold wisdom of God." That man is but 
a link in one mighty chain of being ; that there is a con- 
nexion or mutual subserviency between him and higher 
orders of creatures, analogous to the union, which per- 
vades the visible system, is a sentiment congruous to 
reason, and established by revelation. Both the Old and 
p p 



260 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser. XX. 

^New Testament introduce various ranks and countless 
multitudes of Celestial spirits, as deepty concerned in 
the affairs of our world, especially those, which relate 
to the church. By this intercourse they at once greatly 
contribute to the common good, and receive vast addi- 
tions of personal happiness. While their benevolent 
agency in the Messiah's kingdom is an immediate 
source of sublime and increasing delight ; it is attended 
T;^-ith new, progressive and beatific discoveries of the divine 
glory. To search out, to adore, and to enjoy the perfections 
of God in his w^orks, is their unceasing employment and 
felicity. The redemption of man, in all its connexions, 
at once exceeds, illustrates, and unites in one perfect 
whole, the preceding and concurrent operations of Deity. 
It gives to admiring angels an exhibition of his charac- 
ter, more diversified, harmonious, and complete, than 
the vokimes of nature and providence had ever sug- 
gested. With what high improvement and satisfaction 
must superior beings behold and enjoy this manifesta- 
tion ! The '' manifold wisdom," presented in it, must 
eminently seize their attention, enlarge their knowledge, 
and exalt their devotion. How wonderful must appear 
that contrivance, which renders this little globe so im- 
portant to the beauty, variety, and happiness of the uni- 
verse ; which forces even human rebellion and ruin to 
swell the triumph of order, rectitude, and bliss ! How 
comprehensive that wisdom, which has erected so many 
different theatres for the display of divine glory ; w^hich 
has adopted one form of administration for the sinless 
natives of heaven, another for its apostate citizens, a 
third for disobedient man ; and which has so combined 
these diversities, as to make them jointly conduce to ulti- 
mate and general good ! How profound that intelligence, 
which, by subjecting the Lord of angels to abasement and 



Ser.XX.] on the christian ministry. 261 

death, not for their guilty brethren, but for a lower or- 
der of sinners, is effectually repairing the loss of the 
former, by the restored virtue and felicity of the latter ; 
and which, by this expedient, has provided for the incor- 
poration of redeemed men and angelic beings in one 
confirmed and glorious community ! 

It is important to add, that these heavenly spirits 
derive their knowledge of tliis *' manifold wisdom'* 
chiefly from the gospel dispensation. It was, in a great 
degree, veiled even from them, till it was revealed to the 
apostles, and by their preaching imparted to the world. 
These invisible ministers of Christ and his church gain- 
ed a clear insight into this mystery, by witnessing his 
life and death, his resurrection and ascension ; by see- 
ing ancient types and prophecies fulj&lled and illuminated 
by these events ; by hearing the import of these facts 
explained by authorized Christian teachers ; and by ob- 
serving their transcendent and divine effects on the hu- 
man character and condition. These sources of infor- 
mation reflected new lustre on the several dispensations 
of God to mankind. They exhibited the whole train 
of divine conduct from Adam to Christ, as one harmo- 
nious, yet di\'ersified system, leading by the nicest and 
surest steps to a glorious consummation. While they 
elucidated the manifold wisdom of God in his former 
proceedings, they especially unfolded his deep and be- 
nevolent design in so long deferring a clear and general 
discovery of his rnercy. Wise and good spirits, both 
on earth and in heaven, now see with dehght the beauty 
of this arrangement. They see, that in this w^ay the 
world was trained up by gentle degrees for this sublime 
revelation ; that it receives solemn attestation and digni- 
ty from a long and vast apparatus, going before and ter^ 
minating in it ; that a full experiment had been made of 



262 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. CSer.XX. 

human philosophy and government, of natural theology 
and virtue ; that Christ did not appear till the pure relig- 
ion and morals, taught in the first ages, vi^ere lost be- 
yond hope of recovery ; nor, until the union, peace, 
and learning of the world had opened a door for the easy 
and general diffusion of his gospel ; in short, that he came 
at the precise period, vi^hen the political, moral, and re- 
ligious state of the globe invited, yea, cried aloud for a 
gracious, supernatural, and universal dispensation. 
They also behold this merciful religion wisely adapted 
to all the exigences of those to whom it is offered. Fir- 
ed with these discoveries, the holy and benevolent angels 
fervently sing, in concert with the redeemed, the new 
song of the Lamb; " Worthy is the Lamb that was 
slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and 
Strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing." Yea^ 
so immense is the sum of glory to God, and of happi- 
ness to the moral creation, arising from the work and 
the knowledge of human redemption, that every crea- 
ture in the universe is introduced, as joining the con- 
cert of praise, and saying, *' Blessing, and honour, and 
glory, and pov\^er be unto him, that sitteth on the thronCj 
and to the Lamb, forever and ever." 

Our subject in review furnishes a satisfactory reply- 
to a frequent suggestion either of humble diffidence, or 
of cavilling infidelity. The lowly and fearful mind is 
sometimes ready to view the gospel as incredible, be- 
cause it unfolds riches of condescending love so great 
and wonderful, as to confound rather than encourage be- 
lief, especially when contrasted with the mean and ill- 
deserving character of their object. The sceptical phi- 
losopher is likewise apt to view it, as a strong objection 
to Christianity, that it exhibits the Deity lavishing his 
btst treasures on our inconsiderable world, which ia 



Ser. XX.] ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. ^^i 

but an atom in the intelligent universe. These diffi- 
culties are easily removed, by obsening, that if it was 
not below the dignity of God to create all things by Je- 
sus Christ, it is still less below him to redeem many 
millions of his rational creatures by the same glorious 
Person, and thus to recover them to that moral perfec- 
tion, in which his own dignity and happiness consist. 
Man, though comparatively mean, rises to inconceiva- 
ble importance, when viewed in his relations to the uni- 
verse and eternity. As he possesses a soul capable of 
endless advances in knowledge, usefulness, and bliss ; 
so his connexions with other beings, according to scrip- 
ture and rational probability, render the scheme of liis 
recovery a source of unbounded improvement and joy. 
What though the immediate scene and objects of this 
redemption be low and obscure? This circumstance 
only heightens the splendour of redeeming power and 
wisdom, condescension and grace ; just as the poverty 
and weakness of the Saviour and his early disciples gave 
new evidence and glory to his religion. Was it not 
highly worthy of the Supreme Ruler, not only to reclain> 
an apostate world, but to reunite it to his holy empire, 
and to render this union a mean of eternal praise to 
himself, and good to the universe ? Thus, sound phi- 
losophy, by enlarging in our minds the intellectual cre- 
ation, enhances the importance, and of course the credi- 
bility of the Christian redemption. 

While these great ideas dispel the mists of unbeliev- 
ing doubt and sophistry, they furnish gospel ministers 
with the noblest incitements to zeal and magnanimity. 
What though their office be despised, and their mes- 
sage opposed, by the secret or open enemies of that 
God, whose government and mercy they recommend, 
^nd of that Saviour, whose unseaixhable riches they 



^54 ON THE: CHRISTIAN : MINISTRY. [Ses. XX. 

preach ? Is it not enough to animate ai;id, console them, 
that all heaven is on their side ; that celestial principali- 
ties and powers ar-e their brethren and fellow labourers ; 
tliat they are acting with and for the universal church, 
the holy creation, and the common Head and Father of 
both ? Shall it not comfort us, that every instance of 
our fidelity and success, every repenting sinner, every 
improved saint, who ever is converted or edified by 
our ministry, creates new joy both in heaven and earth, 
and brings additional honour to the name and kingdom 
of our Lord ? How sublime is the prospect of that day, 
when all the faithful ministers and heai'ers of the gospel 
shall be assembled together, and form one great me- 
dium to reflect the glory of God in the face of his Son, 
on admiring kindred spirits, and at once to excite and 
assist their eternal praises ! That we may share in the 
ti'iumph of that day, let us explain and recommend the 
gospel of Christ with such fidelity, clearness, and force, 
that all men within our reach may have the best advan- 
tages to see, and the strongest motives to embrace it. 

These sentiments, dear Sir, are addressed to you 
with peculiar tenderness and ardour. What lowly, yet 
elevated feelings must they rouse in your bosom at this 
affecting moment ! If Paul, that unrivalled minister of 
Christ, was humbled to the dust by the greatness of his 
office, and by personal un worthiness and insufficiency ; 
what reason have we to be abased by similar views ? 
Your entrance on this employment, and your perform^ 
ance of its duties, will, I trust, cherish a solemn impres- 
sion of that human apostasy, and divine mercy, which 
originated the scheme of redemption. You will study 
and unfold this scheme with a deep sense of your own 
concern in its great discoveries and requirements. 
This manner of beginning and conducting your minisT 



Ser.XX.] on the christian ministry. 265 

try will render it a constant school of humility, and this 
humble temper will accelerate the growth of every in- 
tellectual and virtuous accomplishment, ft will open 
your mind to truth, and make you ingenuous, devout, 
and industrious in acquiring it.- Tf will fill your heart, 
your ministry, and life, as it did those of St. Paul, with 
a constant stream of piety and Charity J "with exemplary 
modesty and contentment, patience and equanim- 
ity, amid the trying vicissitudes of your present 
condition. The spiiit I now recommend, far from 
leading to base timidity or servile compliance, \\nll 
nourish true dignity and independendc ; of character. 
It will preserve you from the meanness of selfish ambi- 
tion and vanity. It will enable you to enjoy popular 
admiration, and even the esteem of die wise and great^ 
with a sober and thankful mind, and to improve them, 
as means of more extensive good. 

Your heart, I doubt not, gratefully admires the con- 
descending grace of our Lord in calling you thus eafly 
into his public service under circumstances so highly 
auspicious. You will show your gratitude for these to- 
kens of his favour, by affectionately publishing his un- 
searchable riches, by tenderly adjusting 3'our public. and 
private addresses to the several descriptions of your hear- 
ers, and by using every effort of prudent zeal to bring all 
men into the sacred fellowship of the gospel. Your 
concern for the best interest, of mankind, your knowl- 
edge of the Christian system and reverence for its di- 
vine Author, will forbid you to accommodate its high 
discoveries, duties, and sanctions, to the taste of modern 
pride, or licentiousness, or unbounded liberality. They 
will constrain you to insist not only on the external de- 
cences of a civil, or occasionally solemn deportment, 
but on a radical repentance of sin, a cordial trust in the 



266 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser.XX, 

- . . . . ■ . , -^ 

Saviour, a uni^ ersal purity of heart and conversation, as 
indispensable conditions, and eveii ingredients, of the 
gospel salvation. 

, May you, Sir, largely imbibe the generous and exalt- 
ed views of the text.^iMay you centre your glory, pleas- 
ure, and wealth, not in the splendid and amusing trifles 
of this w^orld, but in resembling those great spirits, with 
whom you ai^e called to act in reuniting men to God and 
one another, and thus extending the triumph of divine 
benevolence and created good. By a steady contempla- 
tion and pursuit of these objects, may you be qualified 
to mingle in human society, with a safe and dignified, 
yet easy affability. May your intercourse with men, 
like that of your Master, be open and free, yet pure and 
instructive. May it convince the most cheerful circles, 
that while the good Christian and minister can enjoy, 
with temperance and even refinement, the decent pleas- 
ures of this hfe, his chief satisfaction and excellence 
spring from afar higher source. May your pastoral un- 
ion with this people be long and happy ! May they and 
their beloved offspring, and even many of their unborn 
posterity, be your hope and comfort in this Vv^orld, and 
your eternal crown of rejoicing in the kingdom of hea\'en. 
Respected brethren of this church and society^ w-e greet 
you on this joyful occasion. We shared with you 
in the affliction occasioned by the sudden death of your 
much esteemed Belknap, and by the early resignation 
of his worthy successor. While we offer our affectionate 
and devout wishes for his confirmed health, and long 
protracted usefulness to the church of Christ, we bless 
God for his distinguishing goodness in fixing your 
speedy and united choice on a person, whose gifts and 
virtues promise great ministerial usefulness and honour. 
That this promise may be realized, We ask for him not 



Ser.XX.] on the christian ministry. 267^ 

only your continued esteem, but your tender and liberal 
indulgence. Though he is soon to be commissioned , as 
a humble fellow- worker with celestial principalities and^ 
powers, yet he is far from possessing at present their 
strong and immortal ^pstitution. His delicate health; 
and youthful age, combined with his conspicuous station^ 
his arduous service, and the weight of public expectation, 
plead both with him and with you for the care of his val-^ 
uable life, as a mutual and sacred duty. They also so^- 
licit the animating concurrence of your Christian prayers 
and examples, of your steady, solemn, and edifying at- 
tendance on his ministry, of your best exertions in your 
several connexions and employments, to support the 
honour and extend the influence of vital religion. By. 
this conduct you will cheer and strengthen his anxious 
mind, and secure to yourselves the gracious presence 
and benediction of God. Brethren, may your hearts be 
comforted, being knit together in love. May your so- 
ciety, with its new pastor, cemented and adorned by 
gospel faith and charity, become a spiritual ^* building 
fitly framed together, and growing up to a holy temple in 
the Lord." 

Men and brethren of this numerous assembly : If it be 
the office and glory of ministers to publish the mystery 
of Christ, it is your corresponding duty and privilege to 
receive and obey it. To you as well, as to them, is 
committed a trust of the most solemn, extensive, and 
lasting import. The minds of many at this day are so 
filled with the present and political advantages resulting 
from Christianity, that they seem to forget its high origin, 
intention, and issue. Some are even willing to consign 
to the clergy the exclusive honour of that temporal good, 
which religious institutions promote ; for they will not 

^4 



268 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Si^r.XX. 

lend them the weight of their uniform example and in- 
fiuence. But be not deceived; as the gospel came 
from God, so its leading object is to train you for that 
glorious and immortal community, of which he is the 
head. This end cannot be attainM, unless you heartily 
comply, and steadily co-operate, with the Christian sys- 
tem. Let this serious occasion direct your views to that 
far more solemn period, when all the little interests of 
time shall be lost in the momentous^ scenes of eternity* 
*' Seeing, then, that all these things shall be dissolved, 
what manner of persons ought ye to be in ^l holy con- 
versation and godliness!" "The Lord grant" to you 
and me, " that" we "may find mercy of the Lord in 
that day ;^^ that we may be humble monuments of his 
praise, " when he shall come to be glorified in his saints^ 
and to be admired m all them that believe.'* 



I 



The Benefits of Affliction. 



Hebrews xiL 9, 10.. 

Furthermore^ nve hcrve had fathers of ourfesh, who cor- 
rected us, and we gave them re'verence : shall we not 
much rather be in subjection to the Father of spirits^ 
and live ? For they verily for a few days chastened us 
after their own pleasure ; but he, for our profit, that 
we might be partakers of his holiness. 



w 



HAT instructive and soothing words are these to 
the sons and daughters of affliction ! Do the very light 
and feelings of nature teach us to receive the corrections 
of the fathers of our flesh, our meaner and mortal part, 
with reverence, with love, with a quiet submission to their 
authority, wisdom, and benevolence, in this salutary dis- 
cipUne ? And shall we not much rather be in subjection 
to the Father of spirits, the paient of our nobler and im- 
mortal part, the author of our spiritual and divine life, 
by which we become his children in the highest and hap- 
piest sense ? Shall we not receive his paternal correc- 
tions with dutiful respect, with a heaity submission to 
his will ind design in them ? Shall we not thus be lu 
subjection, and live ? Yea, live in the noblest sense. By 
this submission to our Father in heaven, we shall be im- 
proved and carried forward in a holy and heavenly life, 
and gradually refined and matured for the life of angels 



270 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Sjm.XXI. 

and perfected spirits in glory. For, as the apostle pro- 
ceeds, " They verily for a few days chastened us ;" that 
is, dur ing our puerile years,, or in order to our good 
behaviour and welfare during this short and dying life; 
"after their ov\ti pleasui:e;" according to their falli- 
ble, and frequently erroneous judgment; and some- 
times according to their capricious humour, or hasty 
ungoverned passions ; whence it happened that their 
chastisements were not always strictly just ; either pro- 
portioned to our desert, or adapted to our real ben- 
efit: ** but He for our profit;" that we niay learn and 
practise the most beneficial lessons ; which are all sum- 
med up in this, " that we may be partakers of his holi- 
ness ;" of that holiness of which he is himself the au- 
thor and pattern ; the centre and end ; and in which he 
supremely delights. 

The words thus explained present a train of excellent" 
ideas, which are always seasonable and useful to crea- 
tures in our situation, surrounded with so many scenes 
of calamity and distress ; but \^ hich are peculiarly sea- 
sonable at this juncture, when the Father of our spirits 
has seen fit to visit us with a rapid succession of awful 
and grievous dispensations.* For, within the space of 
less tlian fourteen days, he has stripped this society of 
four of its members ; all of whom, except the last, were 
cut down in the prime, or the midst of life ; and, in ad- 
dition to this, he has called a considerable number of 
femilies in this place, within that compass of time, to 
bury an aged parent and brother, who had spent some 
part of his life in the bosom of this parish, and at length 
expired on its borders. So quick a series, and so great 
a crowd of bereavements, by which no less than twelve 
distinct families in this place are at once mourning the 
deaths of very near relations, has, I think, never been 

^ This discourse was preached Map. 28, 1790. 



15er»XXI.1 benefits OF AFFLICTION. 271 

exceeded, nor more than once equalled, since my con- 
nexion with the society. And can we suppose, that so 
miany successive strokes of our heavenly Father's rod 
have no important meaning ? Reason as well, as scrip- 
ture, forbids the idea. No, my fellow mortals and fel- 
low mourners, our dying and dead friends are kind 
messengers to us from our infinitely \^•ise and good 
Father ; or, as the poet happily expresses it, 

" Are angels sent on errands full of love ; 
For us they languish, and for us they die ; 
And shall they languish, shall they die in vain V* 

Let us, therefore, in the further prosecution of this 
subject, attend to some of the errands on which these 
messengers are sent ; or, in other words, consider in what 
respects those fatherly chastisements, \\ hich God lays 
upon us in the death of our friends, are designed and 
adapted for our profit. The text indeed speaks of divine 
corrections in general ; and it must be granted, that all 
God's afflictive visitations have the same general lan- 
guage, the same kind and benevolent tendency and de- 
sign ; they are all calculated to embitter sin to us, to 
mortify our pride, vanity, and worldly affection ; to 
rouse up our minds to a just, deep, enlarged, and most 
salutary train of thought ; and, in a word, to exercise 
and brighten the whole circle of Christian graces ; par- 
ticularly faith, patience, humility, submission, supreme 
love to God, and trust in him. 

Let me further premise, that the deaths of our fellow 
men in general, where there is no special tje of kindred, 
of friendship, or even of acquaintance to unite us to them, 
hold up veiy profitable instructions to our minds ; and 
every wise and pious observer will reap some improve- 
ment from them. He will learn more and more of the 
vanity of man, even in his best estate : he will grow 



272 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Ser.XXL 

more humble, and dependent on the eternal God : he 
will read the dreadful evil of sin on every coffin and eve- 
ry tombstone : he will feel himself called and roused 
by every death he witnesses, to prepare for his own^ 
and to put every thing in the best readiness for his sol- 
emn enti'ance into the eternal world. And if every in- 
stance of human mortality is thus pregnant with rich 
profit to the attentive mind, much more those, which 
strike nearest to our hearts, which tear from us 6ur 
dearest lovers, friends, and acquaintance ! 

Let us survey a number of particulars, in which the 
removal of these is calculated, and may be improved, 
for our benefit. And 

First, It shows us the insufficiency and emptiness 
of the most beloved and valuable creature comforts. 
To render this observation more impressive, let me 
instance in some of those connexions, which death has 
lately broken asunder. Some of you have lost a son in 
the bud of childhood, or the flower and glory of youth» 
None, but the fond hearts of parents can tell, how dear, 
bow interesting, how transporting these comforts are ; 
how they twine about our heart-strings, and engross 
that affection and dependence, which are due only to 
the Being of beings. And none but the parental bosom 
can tell how it tears the very soul, whtn God roots up 
these tender plants, and withers the blossom from v/hich 
we- fondly expected such rich and pleasant fruit I 
Where is now your delight, your hope, your towering 
fabric of expectation, ye bereaved, mourning parents ? 
Alas ! buried in the same coffins and graves with your 
departed children ! What a lesson is here of creature 
emptiness ! Some of you have lost a beloved partner, a 
bosom friend, who was your helper and your support 
under the daily cares and difficulties of life ; your sec- 



Ser. XXL] BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 273 

ond self, to divide your sorrows and double your joys ; 
and with tender and faithful assiduity to promote your 
interest and comfort. But God, by removing this prop, 
is teaching you, in the most forcible manner, what a 
weak support, what a poor helper, what a feeble, shcrt 
lived friend this is on which you have so fondly leaned ! 
Others of you have lost a parent, who was the guide, the 
counsellor, the guardian, of your younger years ! but 
death is now teaching you the insufficiency of such a 
guide and patron, who has left you in the midst of your 
journey, through this dark and perilous Wilderness* 
Otliers have lost a beloved brother ; and God, by this 
dispensation, is teaching you, that the ties and sweets of 
natural brotherhood and friendship are a very scanty, 
precarious foundation on which to build solid, permanent 
happiness. Thus the deaths of any near and much 
loved friends proclaim, with a very loud and affecting 
voice, the vanity of all created comforts, and warn us ia 
die language of the poet, 

Beware what earth calls happiness : beware 

All joys, but those that never can expire. 

Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; 

A broken reed at best ; but oft a spear ; 

Ovk its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires. 

11. The death of our fiiends is calculated to lead, 
yea, drive us to a more immediate and constant depend- 
ence on God. The stream is dried up in order to force 
us back to the fountain. These twinkling stars set in 
darkness, in order to make us prize and seek the beams 
of the Sun of righteousness. These earthly idols are 
turned out of our hearts, to make room for the King of 
glory, the sovereign beauty and good, to enter and fill 
them. While our friends were alive and flourishing 
around us, we were apt to trust in and live upon them ; 



274 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Ser.XXL 

to rest as it were our whole weight upon them ; to make 
them our refuge and high tower, our sun and our 
shield. But when death comes and beats down this 
tower, and breaks this shield to pieces, and turns this 
feeble sun into darkness, then we feel a kind of necessi- 
ty of looking out for some better refuge ; of looking and 
flying to God, as our sun and our shield ; then the atten-, 
tive and pious mind will eagerly repair to the Bible, the 
fountain of divine consolations, which flow in that bless- 
ed volume, and will feel a new, a seasonable relief, and 
delight in surveying those kind, condescending charac- 
ters and relations, which God and his Son have there 
assumed, for the comfort of his people in all their vari- 
ous distresses* 

For instance ; when we lose an earthly parent, with 
what pleasure will the thoughtful and serious mind, in 
such a circumstance, read, and, as it were, cling to these 
words of the psalmist ; *' When my father or my mother 
forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." Or when 
the Christian loses the dear companion of his life, with 
\\ hat eagerness and satisfaction does he fiy into the 
arms of Jesus, as a bosom friend, a husband, a com- 
panion, who can never fail him ! And in the loss of a 
natural brother, what pleasure is there in the thought, 
that Jesus Christ is become the natural, sympathizing 
brother of man, by partaking in our nature and sorrows, 
and offers to become our spiritual brother by regenerat- 
ing and adopting grace ! In short, the loss of any dear, 
earthly connexion, is powerfully adapted, as a mean to 
make us prize, and seek, and secure, a spiritual, 
indissoluble connexion with the infinite God and his di- 
vine Son, in whom we may regain, to unspeakable advan- 
tage, the endearments and sweets of all those relations 
and ties of love, which death has broken, or can dissolve. 



S*R. XXI.] BENEFITS OP AFFLICTION. 275 

III. The removal of dear friends calls to an im* 
portant trial of our love to God, and submission to his 
sovereignty. When God tears from our arms and our 
hearts some favourite creature, he hereby practically puts 
the same question to us, which Christ did to Peter $ 
** Lovest thou me ? lovest thou me more than these crea- 
ture delights ? Art thou willing to resign them at my 
call ? Thou hast called me thy Lord and Sovereign ; I 
am now come to bring thy sincerity to the test. Art 
thou willing I should be sovereign in this instance ? 
Canst thou give up thy dearest comforts to me — to my 
absolute disposal ? I gave up my Son to death for thee ; 
and hast thou any. thing so near and dear to thee, as my 
Son was to me?" 

And now, ye bereaved mourners, what answer do your 
hearts give to these divine questions ? Do you find, up- 
on trial, that you really love God and his will above all 
things, so that you can surrender any thing when his 
pleasure and glory demand it ? If so, what a comfortable, 
what a glorious example is hereby exhibited of your 
gracious sincerity ! an example which at once greatly 
honours God, edifies and strengthens good men, pre- 
sents matter of conviction to the wicked as well, as affords 
great satisfaction and benefit to yourselves. There is no 
frame of mind so sweet and so reasonable, as a clieer- 
ful and entire acquiescence in the will of God. And 
this salutary lesson is to be chiefly learned in the school 
of affliction. And perhaps no kind of afHiction is better 
fitted to teach it, than this. In many other calamities 
there is such a mixture of human interposition, that we 
are ready to imagine we may be allowed to complain, 
and to chide a little ; and, while we feel a mixture of 
indignation against the instrument, we are apt to forget 
the great First Cause and Disposer of our trials. But 



R r 



276 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Ser. XXL 

here it is so evidently his hand, that we must refer it to 
him ; and it will appear daring impiety to quarrel at 
what is done. In other instances, we can at least flatter 
ourselves with hope, that the calamity may be diverted, 
or the enjoyment recovered : but here, alas ! there is no 
such hope ; for the last fatal stroke is irrecoverably giv- 
en ; so that opposition is vain ; and a forced submission 
gives but little rest to the mind : a cordial acquiescence 
in the divine will is the only thing in the whole world, 
that can ease the struggling heart, and restore it to true 
peace. Remaining coiTuptions will work in the best 
Christians on so trying an occasion. This will lead them 
to an attentive review of the great reasons for submission. 
It will lead them to press these arguments on their own 
souls, and to plead them with God ia prayer ; till at 
length the storm is laid; and tribulation worketh pa- 
tience, and patience experience, and experience a hope, 
which maketh not ashamed, while the love of God is so 
shed abroad in the heart, as to humble it for every 
preceding opposition, and to bring it to an entire and 
delightful approbation of all that so wise and gracious a 
Father has done ; giving up every temporal interest and 
enjoyment to his disposal, and sitting down with the 
sweet resolution of the prophet, — " Although the fig-tree 
shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; 
the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield 
no meat ; the flock shall be cut off* from the fold, and 
there shall be no herd in the stalls; yet I will rejoice in 
the Lord, I will joy in the God of my sajvation." When 
we are brought to this^ the whole horizon clears at once, 
and the sun breaks forth in its strength. 

IV. The deaths of beloved relatives are dispensations 
excellently adapted to lead us into a deeper knowledge 
of what is amiss in our hearts. They, as it were, sift 
our carnal and perverse hearts to the bottom, and bring 



5ER.XXI.] BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 277 

up to our view a great deal of lurking pride, selfishness, 
idolatrous affection to creatures, and rebellious opposi- 
tion to the Creator. These evil dispositions, perhaps, 
lay quite out of sight, and in a great measure dormant, 
so long, as God smiled upon us, and gratified our ardent 
desires with a constant series of temporal comforts. 
But, when he reverses the scene, and crosses these fond 
inclinations ; then our pride and selfishness begin to 
swell, and burst into impatient and murmuring senti- 
ments against him. Then our extreme reluctance to 
parting with creature comforts at God's command, and 
the long and excessive sorrow, wliich attends the parting 
stroke, too plainly shows, that we insensibly idolized 
these comforts, that we placed the creature in the room. 
of the Creator, and that we are ready to quarrel with 
God for disturbing us in our sinful idolatry. Thus the 
school of bereavement teaches us more and more of the 
depths of wickedness in the human heart, and our press- 
ing need of supernatural grace to rectify these disor- 
ders ; and thus tends to promote a spirit of deep humil- 
ity, earnest prayerfulness, godl}^ self-jealousy, and con- 
stant vigilance. 

V. The death of friends operates for our profit, when 
it awakens us to a solemn and tender recollection of our 
conduct toward them, whether it has been in all respects 
right or not ; and when it quickens us in our duty to 
surviving relatives. While they are alive and present 
with us, our neglect of duty toward them does not so 
soon strike our consciences. But when the stroke of 
death divides them from^ us in this world forever, we 
are ready then to bethink ourselves, whether we have 
fully performed our duty to them. ** Did I always ren- 
der that filial affection, that submissive tenderness to my 
departed parent, which became a child ? Did I pay due 
honour and obedience to parental instructions, counsels j 



275 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. tS^^R. XXL 

and admonitions, especially those, which regarded my 
religious and eternal concerns? Did I carefully and faith- 
fully instruct the child, which I have lost, in the great 
things of God, of heaven, and eternity, and endeavour 
to train him up for the service and enjoyment of his 
Creator? What have I done for the spiritual and ever- 
lasting welfare and comfort of the dear partner, or broth- 
er, whom Providence has now placed beyond the 
possibility of ever receiving any further benefit from my 
friendly assistance ? O did I live and converse with my 
now deceased relative, as became those, v/ho were breth- 
ren and companions in the spirit as well, as in the flesh? 
Did we endeavour to quiqken each other's pious zeal and 
love, and help one another onward in the road to 
heaven ?" O hov/ must such inquiries convict the best 
of us, of very great negligence toward our beloved 
friends, who ai e now departed ! And how powerfully 
must such a conviction operate to overwhelm us with 
penitential grief for such neglects ; and to double our 
zeal and diligence toward those, who yet survive ! This 
will be the most substantial proof of our affection both to 
the dead and the living. And could our deceased rela- 
tives arise from their graves, or iiddress us from the 
invisible world, they would call upon us to show our 
respect in this wayj by weeping not so much for them, 
as for ourselves and our children ; by turning the whob 
tide of our affections and sorrows for them, into the 
channel of redoubled zeal and .care for the salvation of 
our own souls, and those of our dear surviving friends. 

I might mention many other particulars in which such 
strokes of bereavement ^e well adapted means of prof- 
iting the living. But here, to prevent mistakes, I must 
subjoin this explanatory observation, that these divine 
chastisements, in order to their reaching these salutary 
ends, must be accompanied on th^ one hand with the 



SsK.XXLl BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 27^ 

inward teachings and impressions of divine grace, and 
on the other, with sincere desires and endeavours on 
our part to endure and improve aright. If those, who 
are visited with these corrections, pay little or no atten- 
tion to the great moral purposes for which they are sent ; 
if they do not make it their great concern to learn those 
divine lessons, which they are designed to inculcate ; if, 
instead of this, they either stupidly overlook, or scorn- 
fully despise, or peevishly censure, or disconsolately 
sink under God's chastising hand, in all these cases, 
affliction, instead of profiting, will rather harden and con- 
firm them in their evil dispositions. Therefore, by waj" 
of improvement, 

1st. We may learn the true import of the phrase, which 
is so often on our tongues, in our addresses both to God 
and men. I mean when we express a wish, or a peti* 
tion, that such an affliction may be sanctified to ourselves 
or to others. Then is affliction sanctified to a person, 
when he is truly sanctified by the affliction ; or is so 
profited, as to be made a partaker of God's holiness ; 
when his love and conformity to God, and preparation 
for the final enjo}Tiient of him are hereby increased. 
'' O that this bereavement may be sanctified to me," is 
a language frequendy spoken ; but what sense, or what 
SH^cerity is there in this expression, as used by those 
persons, who appear to have no thought nor desire of be- 
ing made better by their affliction ; who manifest no 
earnest solicitude to have their proud, worldly, idola^ 
trous affections cured by this discipline ; but who will 
perhaps indulge those very unsanctified tempers under 
the rod, which directly contradict and defeat a sanctified 
and beneficial improvement of it ? Again, 

2. Our subject teaches us, that the best way of 
mourning our departed friends, is by really profiting by 
th«ir deaths ; by living as they desire \ by living ^gree- 



280 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Seii.XXI. 

ably to their dying advice ; to the forcible eloquence of 
their expiring groans, their solemn funeral solemnities, 
and their sacred, but mouldering tombs : to behave in 
such a manner, as would best please and gratify them, if 
they could distinctly view our conduct from the world 
of spirits. It is not enough, ye mourners, to drop a, 
few tears at the decease or burial of your dear rela- 
tives, and then go away and forget, or treat with neglect, 
the silent and soft address of their death beds, or their 
last friendly counsels to you, and good wishes and pray- 
ers for you» To do this, is to act as senseless apart, as 
tlie herds, which trample and graze upon their graves; 
it is to tread under feet their agonies, to trifle v/ith their 
anguish, and frustrate their death. Therefore, 

3. Let us all examine how we have felt and behaved 
under such strokes as these. Especially let those of us 
make the inquiry, whose hearts God has lately wound- 
ed in this way. Let each of us ask his own heart, 
Have I seen the emptiness of creatures, and recalled my 
hope and confidence from every tlung below God? 
Have I, in this severe trial, felt my heart bow in quiet 
subjection to the great Father of spirits ? Have I showed, 
that I loved God above the dearest creature enjoyments, 
so that I could willingly acquiesce in his sovereign 
pleasure, and give up my beloved friend at his demand ? 
Have I, by this affliction, been led into a more thorough 
acquaintance with my own heart, and been made truly 
humble and penitent for those inordinate, those idola- 
trous, those rebellious affections, which lurk there? 
Have I been led to a serious review of my past behaviour 
toward my relatives deceaseij ; and do I feel thankful to 
God for whatever kindness and duty he has enabled me 
to perform to them, and penitent for every instance of 
neglect and unfaithfulness ? Am I quickened hereby to 



ser.xxi.v benefits of affliction. 281 

greater zeril and fidelity in discharging my duty to my 
surviving friends ? Do I feel my heart more disengaged 
from earth, more \\eaned from life, more reconciled to 
death, and more attracted to the world of spirits, now 
another beloved object has gone thither before me ? Do 
I feel and live more as a borderer on the eternal world, 
since a part of me has now fled to it ? And am I ready 
to follow, if I should quickly receive the summons ? 
Happy, thrice happy, those mourners, who are taught 
to improve the death of friends to such noble purposes ! 
The temporal loss, in this case, is converted into infi- 
nite j immortal gain. But'if any of us are not engaged in 
making this improvement, we have reason to mourn 
with an emphasis ; for we have lost not only our dear 
relatives, but likewise the whole spirit and benefit of the 
affliction. We have cause to weep, not merely over the 
dead bodies of our friends, but over our own stupid, 
dead, miserable souls, which are a thousand times more 
shocking spectacles. 

To conclude ; let all the members of this society, 
whether old or young, parents or children ; whether part- 
ners in the nuptial relation, or brethren and sisters of 
the same family ; let them all attend to those important 
lessons, which such a crowd of deaths addresses to each 
of them respectively. By these strokes as \vell, as in 
numberless other ways, God has been often vv^arning 
and reproving you. O beware ! lest, by a stupid or per- 
verse disregard, you incur that awful doom. Proverbs 
xxix. 1. "He that, being often reproved, har- 

DENETH HIS NECK, SHALL SUDDENLY BE DESTROY- 



Sermon xxil 



On the Duty and Advantages of worfhip- 
ping God.* 



Psalm xcv. 6. 

come, let us ivorship and bow down ; let us hieel before 
the Lord our Maker, 

j[N an age, like the present, when tlie duties of piety, 
especially the public offices of devotion, are either 
superficially attended, carelessly omitted, or openly 
ridiculed ; when everything, which indicates a scrupulous 
or fervent performance of them, is styled vulgar supersti- 
tion or enthusiasm ; it may nott>e unprofitable to employ 
a few moments in explaining, recommending, and 
vindicating the good old practice of worshipping the 
Lord our Maker. The earnest invitation to this duty, 
contained in our text and in numberless similar passages 
of scripture, prove, that the observance of it is of high 
antiquity, and has ever formed a distinguished trait in 
the most excellent human characters. 

To worship God, in the largest sense of the phrase, is 
to entertain just sentiments of him in our understandings, 
with correspondent affections toward him in our hearts ; 
and to manifest these in our external language and 
behaviour, especially in solemn stated exercises of adora- 
tion and praise, of prayer and thanksgiving. The sever- 

* The substance of this discourse was delivered at a public lecture, in 
Harvard Unirersity, Feb. 25, 1794. 



Skr. XXII.] DUTY AND ADVANTAGES, &c. 283 

al inward aiFections toward the Deity, which constitute 
the soul of acceptable worship, and of all religious good- 
ness, may be summed up in two words, veneration and 
love ; the former comporting with the majestic and aw- 
ful, the latter, with the more amiable and beneficent attri- 
butes of God. 

That we ought to possess these internal feelings to- 
ward our Maker, and to express and promote them by 
frequent acts both of private and social worship, may be 
proved by various topics of argument. 

Such pious exercises are, in the first place, fit and 
beautiful in themselves. 

They correspond to the nature both of God and man. 
They are a just tribute to the various perfections and 
relations of the Deity, and most congenial to the nobler 
powers and aiFections of his dependent and rational off- 
spring. Is it not entirely reasonable and congruous, 
that we should admire supreme greatness, dread infinite 
power and justice, love perfect goodness and beauty, 
confide in unchangeable mercy and truth, and cheerfully 
submit to unerring wisdom and rectitude ? Does not 
our conscious, unceasing dependence upon the Being, 
who made us, oblige us to constant prayer? Does not 
every ray of comfort and of hope, w^hich enlightens and 
cheers our existence, demand our fervent gratitude and 
praise to him, \^'ho is continually dispensing these re- 
freshing beams ? Does the tenderness of a parent, the 
fidelity of a friend, or the still greater virtues of the pat- 
riot swell our bosoms with unutterable sentiments of 
grateful respect? And is -the original, the universal Par- 
ent, Friend, and Benefactor, the great Inspirer of every 
thing, which is amiable or kind in his creatures ; is he 
to be treated with cold or contemptuous neglect ? Shall 
those ovei-flo wings of heart, those ardent acknowledg- 
s s 



284 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [Sbr.XXII. 

meats, which imperfect human excellence and benefi- 
cence command, be ridiculed as foolish superstition or 
enthusiasm, when paid to the infinite summary and 
fountain of good ? How absurd is that philosophy, how 
preposterous those pretensions to wit or liberality, which 
can thus pour contempt on the most rational and noble 
employment of man ? The eye of true philosophy per- 
ceives a far higher fitness, proportion, and beauty in 
such devout exercises of intelligent creatures toward 
their infinitely glorious and beneficent Creator, than in 
the application of similar or equal mathematical figures, 
one to another, or the most orderly mutual adjustment 
of natural bodies. It pronounces that Being to be the 
proper adequate object of our understandings and hearts, 
who is at once the first truth and the sovereign good. 
It proclaims him to be a pitiful and wretched philoso- 
pher, who stops at visible effects and secondary causes, 
while he overlooks or despises the prime Mover, the 
glorious, all pervading Spirit of the universe. Sound 
philosophy, therefore, both natural and moral, directly 
leads to devotion, and terminates in it, as its proper end 
and its highest perfection. 

We may add, the main dignity of our nature, as dis- 
tinguished from the inanimate land the brutal, consists 
in our capacity of contemplating, adoring, and enjoying 
the great Author and Ruler of the universe. 

Man, therefore, is evidently constituted the high 
priest of the visible creation, and is placed in this au- 
gust temple of the Deity, that he may offer up the in- 
cense of devout homage and praise for himself and for 
all inferior creatures. 

It deserves our special attention, that mankind are 
plainly formed for this sacred employment, not only in 
their individual, but also in their social capacity. As we 



S«R. XXIL] OF WORSHIPPING GOD. 58S 

are capable of, and strongly inclined to society, and de- 
rive a large portion of our pleasures and advantages from 
a mutual communication of our thoughts and feelings ; 
it follows, that our devotional sentiments as well, as oth- 
ers ought to be expressed, enlivened, and improved by 
social intercourse, or by united petitions and thanksgiv- 
ings to the common source of all our blessings and 
hopes. As there arc in every society, whether domestic 
or literary, religious or political, common privileges, 
comforts, and wants, a due sense of these cannot be man- 
ifested but by common or joint exercises of devotion. 

Accordingly, social or public worship of the Deity 
has been instituted and practised by all nations of men 
from the beginning to this day ; and the appointment of 
a weekly Sabbath, for tliis important purpose, is coeval 
with the creation. 

Which leads us to add, that devout exercises toward 
the Most High are frequently enjoined in the Word of 
God, as an essential part and instrument of virtue. The 
worship of our Maker in the closet, in the family, and 
in public, is recommended in scripture by precept and 
example, by divine incitement and promise. 

This remark anticipates, and sufficiently refutes an 
objection, which is sometimes brought against vocal, 
and especially public addresses to our Maker. It is 
said, that these outward forms are of no advantage either 
to God or man ; that rational homage to our Creator 
consists wholly in proper sentiments and dispositions of 
mind ; and that these are best cultivated by private 
study and meditation. 

To this we reply, if these pious sentiments and feel- 
ings exist w^ith due vigour in our bosoms, they will 
break forth into direct and fervent acknowledgments ; 
they will prompt the most open and expressive testimo- 



286 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [Ser. XXII, 

nies of respect and gratitude to their infinite object. 
This assertion is verified by the obvious fi*ame and 
constant experience of mankind. How did the rever- 
ence and affection of Americans toward their admired 
Washington burst forth into the most emulous and 
ardent expressions of love and honour, when he fa- 
voured the several states, a few years since, with his 
presence ? 

In short, the propriety and obligation of public relig- 
ious worship are enforced by three distinct and weighty 
considerations. 

First, by the regard, which we owe to the Deity. 

As we have already shown, that pious inward senti- 
ments and emotions toward our Creator are the glory 
of our nature ; so a decent and manly avowal of these 
sentiments, before the world, is a tribute, which we owe 
to God as well, as to man. This avowal is strikingly 
made by public devotion. Certainly no sober person 
can think, that he discharges his duty to God, if his pi- 
ety shrinks from the public eye, and conceals itself un- 
der the ^ eil of retirement, as though he were ashamed 
of his intercession Avith the Author and end of his being. 

If, my brethren, we really believe in the existence 
and perfections, the revelation and providence of God, 
let us show our faith by our practice ; not indeed by an 
ostentatious, superstitious, or fanatical display of relig- 
ious strictness and zeal ; but by a regular attendance on 
those venerable Christian institutions, which are signifi- 
cant and honourable memorials of the Deity to all the 
surrounding world. If a principle of rational and scrip- 
tural piety be established in our hearts, it will be gener- 
ous, ardent, and diffusive ; we shall feel, that our own 
solitary homage is too small a tribute to the Beings 
whom we adore ; we shall wish to kindle the same de- 



Ser. XXIL] of worshipping god. 287 

vout flame in every creature around us ; and, like the 
fervent psalmist, we shall call on the earth and heavens, 
on angels and men, to unite in swelling the song of praise. 
Which leads me, 

Secondly, to enforce this duty by the regard we owe 
to mankind. • 

Even enlightened deists and atheists have confessed 
the utility of religion, and especially of Christianity, to 
human society. Consequently, on tlieir own principles, 
they ought to reverence and support those institutions, 
by which its influence is preserved and diflfused. But 
how much greater is this obligation on those, who pro- 
fessedly believe not only in the excellence and useful- 
ness, but also in the divine authenticity of the gospel ; 
who believe, that it is at once a well adapted and divinely 
appointed mean of making men good and happy, both 
for this world and the next ? How eminently does this 
consideration bind the duty before us on those, whose 
wealth, station, or influence renders their example pecu- 
liarly efficacious on the lower orders of society ! Com- 
mon humanity, and even policy as well, as Christian 
benevolence should induce such persons to go before 
the multitude in the road of exemplary virtue and relig- 
ion, particularly in a conspicuous regard to the duties 
of public Christian worship and institutions on the 
Lord's day, which are granted to be peculiarly benefi- 
cial and consolatory to the poor and labouring part of 
the community. It is a just and striking observation 
of the great Mr. Neckar, that '' the appointment of a 
day of weekly rest and social 'worship, especially as 
connected with public instruction in Christian piety and 
morality, is a most benevolent act to the great mass of 
mankind, and the result of enlarged and generous poli- 
cy, if vie\^'ed merely in its aspect upon the order and 
happiness of society." 



288 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [Sjer.XXII. 

How important, then, is it, that the dependent and iU 
literate multitude should be taught and encouraged by 
the example of their superiors duly to estimate and im- 
prove these precious advantages ! How cruel, how ex- 
tensively pernicious the effect, when the poor are in- 
structed by the conduct of the rich, and the more igno- 
rant by the practice of the learned, that there is no truth 
in the doctrines, no obligation in tlie precepts, no advan- 
tage in the public ceremonies, no reality in the consola- 
tions and hopes of Christianity ! This leads me to add, 

Thituiy, that these public exercises of religion are 
recommended to us by the great private advantages, 
which may accrue to ourselves. 

Even those, who move in the highest or most illumi- 
nated spheres of society, may derive much improvement 
from this source. Their religious and moral principles 
will receive new vigour and confirmation by the habit 
of openly avowing and exercising them in the presence 
and society of others. The weekly return of these du- 
ties suspends tliat perpetual current of professional busi- 
ness, of worldly cares or amusements, which would 
otherwise leave little or no leisure nor disposition for se- 
rious reflection. It calls us away from the scenes of 
dissipation ; awakens the mind from its enchanting de- 
lirium { places its own moral picture steadily before it ; 
and makes it feel its connexion with a moral governor 
and an eternal Judge. It enlightens and awes ; it quick- 
ens and comforts us afresh with the great principles and 
prospects of revelation. In so impure and tempting a re* 
gion, as the present world, the most contemplative, im- 
proved, and virtuous cliaracters need a frequent and 
lively inculcation of those divine truths, by which relig- 
ious goodness is nourished and fortified. How much 
more needful, then, is this inculcation to the ignorant. 



Ser. XXIIO of worshipping god. 289 

the careless, and the vicious ! To all which, we may 
add, tliat tlie gracious presence of God, by his awaken- 
ing, sanctifying, and comforting Spirit is, by the prom- 
ises of scripture, eminently connected with a serious 
and uniform attendance on the duties of his sanctuary. 
In this respect *' The Lord loveth the gates of Zion 
more, than all the dwellings of Jacob." 

These observations anticipate and sufficiently answer 
several modern objections, which are brought against 
the public forms of religious worship. 

Can a person, then, duly realize and be properly af- 
fected with the constant presence, the transcendent per- 
fections and benefits of the Deity, without testifying his 
regards to him by the exercises both of private and pub- 
lic devotion ? Besides, devout affections, like all others, 
are not only naturally expressed, but enlivened and in- 
creased by correspondent, external behaviour and lan- 
guage ; insomuch, that every sincere act of worship, 
even in private, cherishes the inward flame of devotion, 
and promotes every pious and virtuous disposition in a 
far more effectual manner, than can be done by mere 
contemplation. 

But public worship produces this effect in a still high- 
er degree ; for it raises and improves devotional feel- 
ings by the power of sympathy and example. The pi- 
ous fervour of one is hereby communicated to anoth- 
er, and thus extends its influence to all the specta- 
tors. 

It also refines and strengthens the social affections. 
By frequently approaching our heavenly Parent, in unit- 
ed worship, we are led to feel toward one another, as 
children of one family, as standing on a level in the 
presence of our impartial and merciful Judge ; and thus 
it levels the little distinctions of rank, of personal or 



290 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [Ser. XXII. 

mental accomplishments ; cherishes a truly republican 
and Christian equality ; and cements all classes of soci- 
ety in the bonds of mutual kindness and charity. 

In short, social worship, joined with public, religious 
instruction, is the grand instrument of spreading knowl- 
edge and civilization, humanity and piety, through the 
community, and of handing them down to future gen- 
erations. 

It is evident, that these .great objects could not be at- 
tained by private reading, meditation, or even devotion, 
however seriously or steadily performed. Suppose, for 
example, the anniversary of American independence 
were observed only by those refined individuals, who 
could entertain and improve their minds by reading or 
reflecting on that great event in studious retirement ; 
would this answer the purposes of such an annual com- 
memoration ? Would it diffuse and imprint upon the 
public mind a just and impressive idea of our glorious 
revolution ? Would it enlighten and wai'm the rising 
generation with the sentiments of American freedom 
and polity ? Would it serve to transmit these sentiments 
to our unborn posterity ? Your own reflections immedi- 
ately answer these questions, and apply them to the sub- 
ject before us. 

I have dwelt the longer on this subject, because a 
c^u'eless, and even contemptuous disregard to the duties 
of piety, especially to the public oflices of devotion, is 
a leading feature of the present age. A punctual and 
serious attendance on these religious forms is ridiculed 
by many, as vulgar superstition ; while every thing, 
which savours of inward, fervent devotion, is styled fa- 
natic delusion. It is readily granted, that both super- 
stition and enthusiasm m^e very absurd, uncomfortable, 
and dangerous things. We will also grant, that the re- 



Ser.XXIL] of worshipping god. 291 

ligion of many of our ancestors was deformed with a 
mixture of these gloomy ingredients* But, w^hile we 
eagerly fly from these extremes, let us not precipitate 
ourselves into the opposite evils. Let us not neglect and 
despise all devotion both in its inward spirit and exter- 
nal institutions. Let us remember, that piety towards 
our Maker is our first and highest duty ; that it is the no- 
blest and the only sure support of moral virtue and social 
order ; and that a regular observance of the outward 
signs and means of religion is the only method of pro- 
moting and perpetuating its influence in the present and 
succeeding generations. 

Were these forms wholly laid aside, a sense of relig- 
ious, moral, and even civil propriety and obligation 
would rapidly decline, and the great mass of the people 
sink into pagan ignorance and barbarity. Accordingly, 
the Roman emperor Julian, a very sagacious and bitter 
enemy of Christianity, was so struck with the good' ef- 
fects, which public worship and instruction had upon 
the Christians of that age, that he recommended their 
example in this respect to his heathen subjects, and di- 
rected their philosophers to give stated weekly lectures, 
as the best method of restoring and extending their old" 
idolatrous religion. 

The ideas suggested in this discourse ought to have 
peculiar weight Vvith such a respectable society, as I 
am now addressing. Both God and man justly expect, 
that the first University in America should be the prime 
nursery and pattern of every species of excellence, both 
intellectual and moral. Be ambitious, then, my young 
hearers, to fulfil this reasonable expectation. Rt '.mem- 
ber, that enlightened and warm devotion toward your 
Maker, expressed and promoted by an orderly and se- 
T t 



'292 DVrt AND ADVANTAGES [Seb. XXII, 

rious attendance on the daily and religious oblations of 
this literary family as well, as oti the weekly solemni- 
ties of public worship, is necessary to complete your 
character, both as scholars, gentlemen, and Christians, 
and to secure your future acceptance, usefulness, and 
lipnour in the higher departments of civil and religious 
society. 

. Let me then urge this duty upon you by every argu- 
ment of common propriety and decorum ; of hurtianity 
and friendship to the lower classes 6t the people, wli'd 
look to you for an example ; of respect to human ana 
divine laws, and to the sentiments and practice of the 
wisest and best men in all ages ; of genuine regard to 
tTie welfare of your country, and to our owh true peace 
and glory in this world and the next as well, as diie rev- 
erence and gratitude to your infinite Creator. Be ever 
on your guard against every thing, which might betray 
you into a contempt either of religion itself, or of the 
me^ns, which are necessary to support it. Beware of 
the fashionable scepticism and scoffing infidelity of the 
age. Beware of that liberal, but false philosophy, which 
places the whole duty and happiness of man in the cold 
performance of civil and social virtue. Remember^ 
that the interests of morality and of society are essen- 
tially connected with those of religion. Beware too of 
that thoughdess levity and that unbounded love of pleas- 
ure, w^hich too naturally spring up amid the sunshine 
of v/orldly affluence, joined with youthful vigour and vi- 
vacity. An intermixture of decent and manly amuse- 
ment is at once graceful and beneficial in the period of 
youth, and amidst the fatiguing studies of a collegiate 
life. But a perpetual giddiness of mind, which never 
pauses to reflect seriously on the high destination and 
prospects of man, or which hurries along in an unceas- 



Sen. XXn.] OF WORSHIPPING GOD. 293 

ing career of low an4 debasing indulgence, is very un- 
becoming the votaries of science, who ought to be capa- 
ble of more close, refined, philosophic thinking and act- 
ing, dian vulgar mortals, and ought never to sacrifice 
the noble enjoyments of rational and moral, of relig- 
ious and immortal beings, to trifling and sordid pur- 
suits. 

Beware too of that learned pride, or vain self conceit, 
4\ hich is apt to raise young students, in their own imag- 
ination, above the need of public, religious instruction 
or worship, or which inspires disgust and contempt of 
every public speaker or performance, which falls below 
their high and delicate standard. Remember, that the 
great design of public devotional exercises is not merely 
to entertain, or even to instruct, but to excite, express, 
and proniote pious and virtuous sentiments of heart ; 
and that persons of the most improved understandings 
need, and may be benefited by them in this view, even 
though they suggest no new idea to their minds, nor 
afford much gi'atification to a nice and curious taste. 
It also merits consideration, that a large majority of our 
common worshipping assemblies, on the Lord's day, is 
composed of illiterate hearers ; that these peculiarly need 
the advantages of public, religious instruction ; and that, 
in order to meet their capacities and feelings, and thus 
accomplish the most extensive good, the learned speak- 
er and his more delicate hearers, must be generously 
•willing to forego many pleasing refinements both of sen- 
timent and expression. Such condescending and be- 
nevolent sacrifices are recommended by the best writers 
on pulpit eloquence as well, as by the best models of 
it, which the world has produced. 



294 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES, &c. [Ser. XXII. 

These free, but friendly hints of advice will, I hope, 
be received with the same candid temper, with which 
they are given ; and may they operate by the divine 
blessing to revive the credit and practice of serious devo- 
tion in this important nursery ; and hence may it spread 
into every department of the American community, ,^ 



©ermon xxiil 



On Forgiveness. 

Matthew vi. 12. 
Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. 

HAT divine model of devotion, of which these 
words are a part, is equally distinguished for its brevity 
and fulness, its plainness and grandeur, its universal 
suitableness and importance. In these several respects 
it unspeakably transcends the highest productions of 
man. While it unites the interests of heaven and 
earth, of time and eternity, in six short petitions ; it is 
remarkable, that the three first of these respect the name, 
the kingdom, and will of God ; while the other three 
contemplate our own temporal and spiritual welfare. 
This arrangement as well, as the reason of things, in- 
structs us to set up the honour and pleasure of Deity, 
and the general happiness of his moral empire, as the 
prime object of our prayers and pursuits, and by this 
to direct, limit, and consecrate our desires of personal 
and inferior good. We are to ask our daily bread, the 
pardon of our offences, deliverance from temptation and 
all evil, not merely for selfish purposes, but with a lead- 
ing view to the service, the glory, and enjoyment of 
our Maker. 

The petition, selected for our present consideration, 
directs us to pray to God for the forgiveness of our debts, 
and to enforce the request by a plea founded on our 
forgiveness of the debts or trespasses of others. 



29^ ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIII. 

The phrase our debts is equivalent to our sins, as it 
is expressed by another evangelist. Our sins are prop- 
erly styled debts ^ because they render us debtors to the 
injured law and honour of God, and the violated order 
and peace of his dominions, and in some cases directiy 
infringe the rights of our fellow creatures. Of course 
they lay us under obligation either to repair the injury 
committed, or to suffer a penalty proportioned to it, 
Consequently, \h& forgheness of our trespasses is gi gra- 
cious discharge from this obligation, or from this debt 
of personal satisfaction or punishment for our transgres- 
sions. The petition before us is, therefore, a request, 
that God would release us from the threatened and de- 
served penalty of his just, but violated law, and finally 
treat us, as though we had never offended. It implies 
a request, that our merciful Sovereign would not only 
cancel our past guilt, but confer on us all the privileges 
and comforts of his reconciled and paternal favour, anci 
introduce us to that transcendent blessedness, which 
the gospel covenant ensures to those, whose transgres- 
sions are forgiven. 

In contemplating the forgiveness of sin, three thing's 
claim our special attention, viz. the original source, the 
meritorious ground, and the appointed instrument of 
this blessing. 

Its original source is the free, unsolicited benevo- 
lence of God. Its moral ground is the meritorious 
obedience and sacrifice of his Son. Its appointed cour 
dition is a penitent and obedient faith, or such a tem- 
per and conduct on our part, as become guilty offend- 
ers, favoured with the offer of mediatorial mercy. Ifi 
other words, the terms of remission, prescribed both by 
the gospel constitution and the fitness of things, are a 
«Jeep repentance of sin, a cordial acceptance of offered 



SEA.XXIIi.] ON FORGIVENESS. 297 

pardon, as the free gift of God through the atonement 
6f his Son, fervent love and thanksgiving to our merci- 
ful, forgiving Father and Redeemer, and a zealous care 
to imitate and honour them by forgiving and doing 
good to our fellow servants, and by the studious prac- 
tice of universal holiness. 

These observations illustrate both the propriety and 
the true import of the petition before us. For since a 
spirit of evangelical repentance, faith, and obedience is 
essentially pre-requisite to forgiveness, and since the 
daily, moral imperfections and irregularities even of the 
best Christians call for die fresh exercises of humble 
and believing penitence, in order to a renewed remis- 
sion of guiit ; it follows, that daily prayer to God for 
pardon is the proper and indispensable duty of all ; for 
it is but a natural and decent expression of conscious 
depravity and guilt, of becoming humility and repent- 
ance, and a suitable acknowledgment both of the sove- 
reign mercy and justice of God. Hereby the humble 
suppliant pays due honour both to God and the Media- 
tor, to the law, which condemns sin, and to the gospel, 
which pardons it ; he cordially owns and extols the 
righteousness of the one, and the grace of the other. 
The spirit, therefore, of this petition, implies, that the 
person offering it not only feels himself to be a sinner^ 
but heartily condemns and forsakes every evil propensi- 
ty and practice. Without this disposition, the oftender 
virtually justifies his disobedience, declares his resolu- 
tion to continue in it, and spurns that mercy, which of- 
fers to pardon it. If such a person verbally beg divine 
forgiveness, he evidently does it in a manner perfectly 
unmeaning and hypocritical ; at best he resorts to it 
merely, as a refuge from impending but unmerited pun- 
ishment, or an opiate for a disturbed, self-condemning 



298 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIII. 

mind, or a comforting licence for future transgressions. 
It is plain, both from reason and scripture, that such a 
hollow and even insolent petition cannot be accepted by 
the Deity, and that a heart, truly humbled and contrite 
for its offences, must give life, and beauty, and efficacy 
to the prayer of the text. This contrite and penitent 
disposition must also be united with evangelical faith, 
or a constant regard to the mediation of Christ, as the 
appointed channel of God's pardoning mercy. This is 
what is meant by praying in the name of Jesus, which is 
every where required in the New Testament, and which 
forms the leading trait in the prayers of Christians, as 
distinguished from those of heathens and infidels. 

Another virtuous disposition, which ought to charac- 
terize our supplications for divine forgiveness, is a cor- 
responding temper towards our fellow creatures ; *' for- 
give us our debts, as w^e forgive our debtors." By 
'' our debtors" are intended those, who, in any respect, 
injure us, either in our persons, reputation, interest, or 
comfort. The Christian duty of forgiveness does not 
require a stoical or affected insensibility of such injuri- 
ous treatment ; for the gospel aims to regulate, not to 
extinguish the innocent feelings of nature. Nor does 
the duty before us forbid our expressing to the injuri- 
ous party a proper indignation and grief at his miscon- 
duct, and prudently attempting his conviction and 
amendment; on the contrary, the scripture enjoins us 
to go to our offending brother, and privately tell him his 
fault: its direction is, *' thou shalt not hate thy brother 
in thy heart; but thou shalt in any wise rebuke him, and 
not suffer sin upon him." This text implies, that a neg- 
lect to repro^^e an offender is a proof of hatred rather, 
than of love. Nor does the duty in question prohibit 
us from seeking satisfaction from those, who have in- 



Ser. XXIII.] on forgiveness. 299 

jured us. The laws of God, of self preservation, and 
of civil society warrant us in such cases to do justice to 
ourselves. Accordingly, the rules of Christianity re- 
quire the injurious person to go and make satisfaction 
to his offended brother, and even to defer the perform- 
ance of religious worship, till he has honestly attempted 
tliis reconciliation ; and without this previous step his 
acts of devotion will not be accepted. Now if the gos- 
pel obliges the offender to give satisfaction, it authorises 
the party offended to expect and demand it. Nor does 
this duty universally imply an obligation to express our 
forgiveness in direct terms to those who have wronged 
us. We are bound to do this to those offenders only, 
who come to us with a due acknowledgment of their 
fault and desire of our forgiveness. 

But the duty of forgiving offenders implies, in the 
First place, that we sincerely love them notwithstanding 
their injurious conduct. The second great command 
of the law, thou shah lo^oe thy neighbour^ as thyself^ is im- 
mutably binding upon every man, especially on every 
Christian ; and nothing in himself or his neighbour can 
excuse his violation of it. If my brother has transgress- 
ed this law of love in his behaviour to me ; this will by 
no means annul my duty to him. If I truly loved him 
previously to his offence, and heartily forgive him since; 
I shall still feel the same benevolent affection towards 
him as before. Agreeably, our divine Lord extends 
the duty of love to our most malignant and injurious 
foes ; "I say unto you, love your enemies ; bless them 
that curse you ; and pray for them that despitefully use 
you." It is clear, therefore, that the indulgence of an 
angry, sullen, or malicious disposition towards a person, 
who has wronged or affronted us, is as remote from the 
u u 



SOa ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIH, 

spirit of Christian forgiveness, as darkness is from light, 
or hell from heaven. 

Secondly. This duty implies a sincere desire and re- 
solved pursuit of the Vv elfai e of those, who have injured 
us, and a heart felt satisfaction in their temporal and 
spiritual prosperity. This is the immediate fruit of that 
affectionate good will, which, as we have just seen, is 
included in forgiveness. The man, therefore, who 
thirsts for revenge on an offending brother, and eagerly 
lays hold of opportunities for it ; or wlito beholds with 
pleasure his misfortunes and ruin, has a spirit directly 
opposite to that of the text. 

Thirdly. This duty requires a readiness of mind to 
confer with the offending party, to be reconciled to him 
on mild and equitable terms, and upon his offering due 
satisfaction, to comfort him with a frank assurance of 
our forgiveness and kindness. Consequently, when a 
person observes an unreasonably distant and strange 
behav iour towards an offending neighbour, and studious- 
ly avoids every opportunit}^ of conversation and reconcile- 
ment ; or insists on very rigid terms of accommodation ; 
or lastly, is yar^Td-cT into a reconciliation, and with great 
reluctance expresses his forgiveness ; in each of these 
cases he betrays dark symptoms of a secret grudge or 
enmity, inconsistent with the Christian spirit. In a 
word, the temper of forgiveness in us must be habitual^ 
constant, and universal ; it must immediately exert it* 
self on every occasion of provocation or injury without 
v/aiting for the offender to come and make satisfaction -^ 
that is, we must instantly and uninterruptedly feel toward 
him such a frame of heart, as we have just described, 
even thouQ;h he persists in his offensive conduct. This 
is evidently implied in the petition before us ; which di- 
rects us to exercise a forgiving spirit towards all, who 



S£R. XXIII.] ON FORGIVENESS, 501 

ha^'e injured us, as often as we pray to God for his par- 
doning mercy. What a solemn obligation does this im- 
pose upon us to cherish a constant flow of good will to 
all, even to our most unreasonable and persevering foes ! 
In another place our Saviour directs his disciples, 
*' when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought 
against any man ; that your Father in heaven may Tor- 
give you." Accordingly, an inspired apostle cautions 
us ** not to let the sun go down upon our wrath ;" for in 
this case w^e should be unfit for our evening devotions, 
and could not lie down to sleep with Christian confidence 
and peace. The same apostle directs us, whenever and 
wherever w^e pray, to lift up holy hands \mthout ivrath. 

These observations suggest an important distinctioa 
©n this subject ; I mean the distinction between two 
kinds of forgiveness, one of which may be styled keric'v- 
alent^ the other complacentiaL The first is always our 
duty towards all men, let their general character, or. 
their special treatment of us be what it may. The cir- 
cumstance of their having greatly wronged us, or of 
their denying us Christian satisfaction, by no means dis- 
solves or even lessens our obligation to forgive them 
so far, as to treat them with tender compassion, with 
cordial and active benevolence. But complacential 
forgiveness is not always our duty ; that is, we ai^e not 
always bound to restore or receive the offender to our 
bosom, as a Christian brother and friend ; for the mat- 
ter, spirit, or circumstances of his offence may be such, 
as to give us just apprehensions, that he is not a sincere 
Christian ; or at least such, as to suspend his present 
right to Christian privileges ; in which case we are 
obliged, by gospel rules, to withdraw our Christian 
confidence and fellowship from him, till by credible to- 
kens of repentance he has restored himself to our broth? 



302 ON FORGIVENESS. [SiR. X:XIII. 

erly charity. The want of accurate or serious attention 
to this distinction has occasioned great mistakes both in 
opinion and practice. Some, on the one hand, have 
indulged and justified, both in themseh^es and others, a 
spirit and conduct towards offenders, directly contrary 
to humane and Christian good will, upon the plea, that 
these persons have injured or have justly offend- 
ed them, without duly confessing or repairing the 
wrong, and therefore, that they are under no obligation 
to forgive them. Others, on the contrary, have imbib- 
ed such lax, or as they choose to term it, such liberal 
notions ,of Christian candour, forgiveness, and charity, 
that they are for extending them to almost all charac- 
ters indiscriminately : they seem disposed to tolerate, or 
at least connive at considerable and repeated irregularities 
in their brethren, rather than exercise the rigid and pain- 
ful discipline of private reproof and public censure : they 
plead, that our divine Master commands us to forgive 
an offending brother not only seven times, but seventy 
times seven, and that, if he trespass against us seven 
times in a day, and only say, / repent^ we are directed to 
receive him to our charity ; that is, say these interpre- 
ters, we are to set no bounds to the expressions of our 
Christian lenity and forgiveness towards the errors and 
imperfections of our brethren. But have these indul- 
gent critics observed, that the last of their favourite texts 
expressly limits the tokens of our charity, by suspend- 
ing them on this condition, if he turn again unto thee, 
and say, I repent. By the offender's turning again unto 
us is meant his changing his disagreeable conduct, and 
turning back to us with evident contrition and desire of 
reconcilement : accordingly, the phrase of turning or 
returning to the Lord is frequently used for cordial re- 
pentance of sin, and reconciliation to God. By his 



Ser. XXIIL] on forgiveness. 303 

sayings I repent, is doubtless meant an apparently sin- 
cere or credible exhibition of repentance ; otherwise he 
only adds insult to his offence, and thus involves him- 
self in still greater scandal. On the whole, our Saviour 
in this text is expressly speaking of a Christian brother ; 
that is, one who in the main appears a real Christian. 
He supposes him to trespass seven times in a day, that is, 
to be often surprised by natural temper, by the remain- 
ing force of old vicious habit, or by pressing outward 
temptation, into such deviations from duty, as are evi- 
dently contrary to his ruling disposition and chai'acten 
He quickly recollects himself, laments his sin, volunta- 
rily turns about, and confesses it to his offended fellow 
Christian with natural marks of evangelical penitence. 
In this case it is agreed on all sides, that he becomes en- 
titled to our brotherly charity and communion, as though 
he had never offended. But there are many supposeable, 
yea actual instances of offence, which essentially differ 
from this in some and perhaps in all the particulars just 
stated. As such instances do not fall within this rule 
of our Saviour ; of course the guilty offender can claim 
only our tender compassion and benevolence, but have 
no title to our peculiar Christian esteem and fellow^ship. 
Having defined the nature of forgiving our debtors, 
let us briefly advert to its obligation and importance. 
These are strikingly intimated in the petition before 
us. For here we urge this plea for divine forgive- 
ness, and take this encouragement to expect it, that 
we feel a disposition to forgive others. The particle as 
used by Matthew is a note of similitude, not of equality ; 
and implies, that we ought in tliis respect to resemble 
the divine benevolence and mercy ; and the particley^r 
used by Luke is not casual, but demonstrative ; it is not 
a plea of merit, as though our forgiving others were ^ 



504 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIII. 

deserving reason of God's forgiving us ; but a plea of 
grace, implying a humble assurance of his pardoning 
mercy, arising from the consciousness that his Spirit has 
formed us to a godlike, forgiving temper. It therefore 
imports, that the exercise of such a temper is at once 
our important duty, and a necessary and certain evi- 
dence of our gracious state. Agreeably, the importance 
of this temper is inculcated by the whole tenor of the 
gospel. This spirit is emphatically the very genius 
of Christianity: it breathes through its peculiar docr 
trines, precepts, institutions, examples, and motives. 
It is eminently enforced by the views, which die gospel 
gives of the aboupding mercy of God, and of the life 
and death, the mediatorial undertaking and redemption 
of his Son Jesus Christ, especially of the import of his 
last sufferings, and his dying praj^er for his murderers; 
*' Father, forgive them, for they know not what they 
do." When w^e further consider, that an unforgiving 
and revengeful spirit is very mean and odious in itself, 
and unspeakably tormenting to its unhappy subjects ; 
that it violates those principles of mutual equity and 
brotherhood, which bind men together ; that it unfits 
them for the right performance both of religious, social, 
and personal duties, lays them open to a thousand temp- 
tations, proves them to be Satan's children, and in fine, 
that it naturally as well, as by the positive decree of 
God, bars men from final happiness, and subjects them 
to endless misery; when we duly weigh these particu- 
lars, we must see the duty in question to be infinitely 
important. 

I must add, that there is a peculiar propriety in ex- 
ercising this spirit towards others, when we solemnly 
ask divine forgiveness for ourselves : For if we proper- 
ly feel the greatness of those sins against tlie infinity 



Ser.xxiii.] on forgiveness. 305 

God, which we request him to pardon ; it will make 
the offences of our fellow worms against us appear inex- 
pressibly small. And can we with any face ask him 
to forgive us ten thousand talents, if we will not forgive 
a fellow servant an hundred pence? Must not a 
due sense of that transcendent guilt in ourselves, the 
pardon of which we implore, in a great measure anni- 
hilate, and make us easily forget the petty wrongs which 
others have done to us ? Especially when we add a just 
view of the greatness of God's forgiving mercy display- 
ed in Jesus Christ. Has the infinite Being, whom I had 
unspeakably offended, has he in a manner equally unso- 
licited and undeserved sent his Son to purchase, his gos- 
pel to offer, and his Spirit to apply a generous and full 
pardon of all this guilt ; and has he commanded me to 
show my gratitude to him for this infinite mercy by 
manifesting the same spirit towards my offending broth- 
er? And can I refuse so small a return of acknowledg- 
ment? O my soul, God freely forgave thee, when there 
was nothing to oblige or enforce, to merit or even desire 
it ; and shall not I forgive my brother, who perhaps de- 
sires and claims my pardon ? or if not, his Master and 
mine enjoins it. This frame of spirit towards others is 
likev/ise peculiarly suitable, when we pray for divine for- 
giveness, because it qualifies us to receive it ;* for it im- 
plies cordial friendship to the pardoning benevolence of 
Deity ; it implies harmony of temper w^ith him. In the 
exercise of this spirit the soul sees and relishes the beau- 
ty of God's infinite mercy. He loves mercy, lo\^es to 
exercise it himself, and is pleased with the exercises of 
it in God ; is delighted with the thought of being in- 
debted to infinite mercy for his entire pardon and salva- 
tion. But the man, who has an unforgiving disposition, 
is unfit to receive divine forgiveness ; for he is an enemy 



^06 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIIL 

to that very mercy which must forgive him ; he cannot, 
therefore, sincerely ask, or waiTantably expect a pardon 
from it. His temper and conduct towards others con- 
tradict and defeat his pretended prayers. Hence God 
cannot but abhor and utterly reject his petitions. This 
is strikingly represented in the parable of the debtor and 
creditor in the eighteenth of Matthew. 

I may add, how can we go to God in prayer, and 
profess friendship to him, if we have no love to our 
brother ? ^* He, who loveth not his brother, whom he 
hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath not 
seen?" How can a man love the Father, and hate his 
children ; be pleased with the character of a Being, who 
is infinitely n^erciful and forgiving, and yet be unmerci- 
ful and unforgiving to his fellow creatures ? It appears, 
then, that a spirit of love, and consequently of forgiveness 
towards men, is the inseparable fruit and evidence of love 
to God ; and it will be granted by ail, that love to God 
is an important ingredient in prayer, particularly in our 
petitions for his pardoning mercy. Certainly such peti- 
tions ought to flow from a heart friendly to God and his 
law, disposed to justify and exalt him, and to take all the 
blame and shame of sin to itself. At the same time, it 
will not follovv, that the convicted, distressed sinner, who 
is conscious of the want of this pious affection to God, 
or the humble Christian, who fears he is destitute of it, 
has no encouragement to pray for divine forgiveness ; 
for the former may feel this want of holy love to be a 
great and dangerous sin, and as such may confess and 
lament it before God with at least as much sincerity, as 
he can mention it to an earthly friend; nor can I find, 
that such confession and corresponding petition, which 
are really prompted by the Spirit of God, are forbidden 
or discouraged in his word : and such a sinner may beg 



-Ser. XXIII.l ON FORGIVENESS. 307 

pardon from God widiout feeling at die time such an un- 
forgiving frame of mind towards men, as would render 
his prayer an abomination. With respect to the doubt- 
ing Christian, he can at least sincerely adopt die accepta- 
ble petition of the publican, " God be merciful to me a 



sinner i 



I" 



On the whole, when we rightly use this plea for di- 
yine. forgiveness, as %ve forgive our debtors ; we heartily 
subscribe to that divine constitution, which suspends our 
pardon from God on this condition ; at the same time 
we feel, that this act of forgiving others is so reasonable 
a duty, and so imperfecdy performed, that it gives us na 
meritorious title to the blessing we ask ; and likewise, 
that it is not an adequate pattern or measure of this 
blessing ; for we too often find, that our exercises of 
forgiveness ai'e mingled with pride, resentment, grudg- 
ing, aversion ; but we need and desire from God a free, 
full, frequent, perpetual remission. We lili^wise realize 
and cordially acquiesce in the righteous and good provi- 
dence of God in permitting any of our fellow men or 
Christians to injure and chastise us, and cheerfully trust, 
that he will bless this affliction for our good. Thus 
David felt under the curses of Shimei. We also plead 
and confide in those many free and rich promises, which 
God has made to merciful characters. We view^ the 
forgiving spirit, with which he has inspired us, as a 
proof of our possessing the spirit of Christ, and of our 
consequent title by the gospel covenant to pardon, 
acceptance, and eternal life. 

In reviewing this subject we are led to admire the 
transcendent superiority of our religion to all other sys- 
tems, and in particular, the comprehensive and excellent 
spirit of the Lord's prayer, especially in the instance be- 
fore us. While haughty and malignant revenge is 
w \r 



308 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIIL 

consecrated, as a virtue, by other schemes of morality and 
honour ; the gospel carries forgiveness and beneficence 
towards enemies to a most glorious height, and enforces 
them by the most winning and commanding motives ! 
How worthy is such a religion of a benevolent Deity ! 
How friendly to the peace, dignity, and happiness of his 
rational offspring? How wisely and efficaciously does 
the prayer before us engage us to the practice of mutu- 
al forgiveness^ by making it our daily plea for as w^ell 
as the express condition of divine pardon 1 

Let us all seriously examine whether we possess the spir- 
it of this petition, a spirit of humble penitence, of evangelic- 
al trust, of cordial charity and forgiveness. Can we read- 
ily forgive the most injurious and malicious human crea- 
ture so as to cherish towards him unfeigned benevolence 
and compassion ; so as cheerfully to assist and comfort 
him in want or distress, and heartily seek and rejoice in 
Jiis amendment and prosperity ? Or do we cherish a re- 
sentful, bitter, vindictive spirit, which takes pleasure in 
reporting and magnifying his faults, in wounding his 
reputation and peace, and which cannot be easy without 
retaliating the injiu'y? If the latter be our character, it 
merits our solemn consideration, that we are not only 
condemned by the whole spirit and letter of the gospel, 
but that we cannot repeat the Lord's prayer without vir- 
tually imprecating upon ourselves the vengeance of 
Heaven ; for in the petition of our text we implicitly 
ask God to treat us, as we treat our fellow creatures ; 
w^e solemnly profess our desire to stand or fall by this' 
rule; consequently, the unmerciful, implacable petiti on- 
er constructively prays, that God would be implacable 
towards him, that he would pursue him with his perpet- 
ual hatred and curse \ What an awful reflection ! May 
it have its due effect on those fashionable Christians, ^nd^ 



;p;ER. XXIII.] ON FORGIVENESS. 305 

pretenders to honour, who think it noble to revenge, 
and ignominious Id overlook an affront ! With Vi^hat 
face can such men call themselves Christians, or attempt 
to offer up their pra}^ers and thanksgivings for the infi- 
nite mercy of God and the Redeemer, or presume to 
hope for their oWn fin^l pardon and salvation ! Let all of 
this character, and every soul in this assembly, seriously 
ponder those words of our Lord — "If ye forgive men 
their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive 
you. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neith- 
er will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses." 



©etmon xxiv. 



On the Connexion between denying the 
Son and denying the Father. 



1 John ii. 23. 

WTiosoever denieth the Son^ the same hath not the 
Father ; but he that acknowledgeth the Son, hath the 
Father also, 

X ' HIS first epistle of John, which is called his general 
epistle, that is, his circular letter to the churches atlargfe, 
was intended to confirm them in a stedfast adherence to 
the true principles and practice of Christianity, especial- 
ly to those gi'eat doctrines, which respect the person and 
office of Jesus Christ. These leading truths of the gos- 
pel were, it seems, early opposed by corrupt and seduc- 
ing teachers, whom our apostle calls liars and anticlirists, 
because they vented the most shocking and pernicious 
falsehoods against Christ and his religion. In the verse 
preceding the text he tells us, that these antichrists de- 
nied both the Father and the Son ; that is, by opposing 
Cliristin his true character and doctrine, they denied the 
testimony of the Father concerning him, and opposed 
the character and will of God, as perfectly revealed in and 
by his Son, who is his best, his most glorious image and 
messenger. Hence he justly infers, in the v/ords before 
us, ''Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hath not the 
Father; but he that acknowledgeth the Son, hath the 
Father also." As if he had said, He who denies Christ, 



^ER.XXIV.] CONNEXION BETWEEN, &c. 311 

or the peculiarities of his gospel, has no true and saving 
knowledge of or interest in God ; he has no friendship 
even to natural religion; he i^ an atheist in his secret 
disposition, if not in his open profession and practice. 
But he, who sincerely acknowledges the Son, honours 
and pleases the Father also ; for there is such a perfect 
union betw^een God and his Son, between the religion 
of nature and the gospel, th^t a hearty friendship to one 
implies and promotes an equal affection to the other. 

The words thus explained will lead us to show at 
large the intimate connexion between deism and athe- 
ism on the one hand, and on the other between a true be- 
lief and acknowledgment of Christ and his gospel, and a 
sincere respect to God the Father. 

A subject of this kind is not only adapted to a 
sacramental occasion, which calls many of us to an open, 
renew ed acknowledgment of the Son of God, but is also 
eminently suited to the present alarming state of the 
Christian world, and particularly of our own country, 
which is remarkable for the increase both of speculative 
and practical infidelity ; an infidelit}-, which pours ex- 
plicit or implied contempt on the great Redeemer of the 
world, or at least on the most essential truths and precepts 
of his gospel. ' It therefore highly becomes the professed 
friends, and especially the public teachers of Christianity, 
to contribute their utmost to repel and destroy this com- 
mon enemy of God and man, and to strengthen them- 
selves and their surroundins: connexions in a firm 
attachment to the principles and duties of our holy re- 
ligion. To promote this great end is, indeed, the main 
design, not only of the Lord's supper, but of all public 
Christian institutions. Perhaps this end cannot be bet- 
ter promoted than by a serious attention to the subject 
before us ; a subject, which places in the most awful 



512 CONNEXION BETWEEN THE ISer.XXIV.. 

and striking view the importance of a hearty and resolute 
acknowledgment of Christ, and the transcendent guilt 
and misery of denying him. 

The justness of this representiition will appear, if we 
consider the following particulars : 

First. The gospel of Christ gives us the best account 
of the character and government of the true God, and of 
all those doctrines and duties, which are usually styled 
natural religion. Consequently, whoever heartily be- 
lieves in God, and is a friend to rational piety and virtue, 
must reverence and delight in the gospel of Christ ; and 
on the contrary, whoever hates or denies the latter, pro- 
claims himself an enemy to the former. The religion of 
Jesus unfolds, confirms, and improves those great princi- 
ples of piety and morality, which respect both the 
existence, perfections, and providence of one Supreme 
Being, and tlie origin, duty, and expectations of man, 
his reasonable creature. It teaches the essential differ- 
ence, the true nature, the wide extent, and everlasting 
rewards both of virtue and vice. It inculcates, and car- 
ries to the highest pitch of perfection, every branch of 
moral goodness, whether personal, social, or divine. 
In short, it reflects the brightest glory upon the nature 
and administration of God, and is admirably fitted to 
ennoble and perfect the character of man. Agreeably, 
it is a notorious fact, that the most weak and ignorant 
disciples of Christ have far more just, comprehensive, 
and elevated conceptions of a Supreme Being, and of 
every religious and moral subject, than the most pro- 
found and learned sages of the heathen world have ever 
attained. It is equally evident, that the dispositions, 
manners, and real enjoyments of Christian believers have 
been refined and improved in proportion to their serious 
regard to the great doctrines, requirements, and motives 



Ser.XXIV.] father and son. 313 

of the gospel. Even the enemies of our religion are in 
general unspeakably indebted to early Christian educa- 
tion and habit, and to those public institutions, senti- 
ments, and manners, which revelation has founded and 
supported. From these sources many deists in Chris^ 
tian countries e\'idently derive that degree of religious 
knowledge, of moral restraint and impro^'ement, of 
private and social happiness, by which they are dis- 
tinguished from ancient and modem heathens. 

Do not these observations clearly evince, that the gos- 
pel of Christ is a \^ery important friend, yea, is the main 
support of natural religion and virtue ? Must not, then, 
every sincere believer and promoter of the latter be dis- 
posed to embrace and propagate the belief and practice 
of the former ? Must not every real and devout friend of 
the one true God rejoice in an institution, which places 
his character, pro\'idence, and worship, and the way to 
please and enjoy him, in a light so plain, so satisfactory, 
and honourable ? Must not every lover of virtue wish to 
guard and promote its interests both in himself and 
others, by those high precepts and motives, which the 
gospel presents ? In short, will not every true patriot and 
philanthropist desire to bless his country and the world 
by diifusing as widely as possible the beneficent influ- 
ence of Christian principles and virtues ? Must we not 
hence conclude, that *' he who denies the Son hath not 
the Father ;'' that he, who rejects the great Representa- 
tive, the benevolent Ambassador of God to men, is un- 
friendly to God himself ; that he, who resists the abun- 
dant evidence, the excellent doctrine and spirit of Chris- 
tianity, does in his heart oppose the similar proofs and 
doctrines of natural religion ? A man must first deter- 
mine to Ihe like an atheist ; he must possess such feel- 
ings and habits, as rebel against the authority and com- 



314 CONNEXION BETWEEN THE [Ser.XXIV* 

mands of God ; he must make it necessary to his inter- 
est and comfort, that there should be no such Deity or 
future retribution, as the Bible reveals, before he can re- 
uounce and malignantly oppose the Christian system. 
Accordingly, the infidelity of the present day has, in 
many instances, assumed the consistent form of com- 
plete and avowed atheism ; while, in other instances, it 
has questioned or exploded some of the most essential 
principles and motives of rational piety and morals ; at 
best, its votaries have not been such devout and virtu- 
ous characters, such candid, serious, and diligent in- 
quirers after truth, as even tlie light of nature taught 
them to be. No wonder, that such enemies to God 
and to virtue should oppose such a system, as Christian- 
ity ; nor is it strange, that they, who reject the gospel, 
which is the grand prop of sound religion and moral- 
ity, should sink into all the darkness and profligacy of 
atheism. 

Secondly. Tlie truth of our text will still further 
appear, if we view the gospel not only, as a publication 
and enforcement of the religion of nature, but, as a ne'm 
dispensation of grace ^ which is carrying on by the Son 
and Spirit of God for the restoration of an apostate and 
ruined world. In this view, Christianity is a glorious, 
supernatural scheme of truth and duty, which reason and 
nature, in their highest improvements, could never have 
investigated. It is true, that nature, conscious of guilt, 
afid apprehending the displeasure of a wise, holy, and 
justly offended Lawgiver and Judge, might feel the 
want, and cherish the trembling hope of some such mer- 
ciful interposition, as revelation unfolds. But it is the 
gospel of Christ alone, which assures us of an actual 
scheme of reconcilement, in all respects adapted to the 
waiits and wishes of nature. The gospel only gives us 



Ser.XXIV.] father ANI> son. 315 

such discoveries of God, as are fitted to enc ourage the 
repentance, and engage the filial love and cheerful obe- 
dience of conscious offenders. The doctrine of Christ 
exhibits the Deity to our view in the full orbed lustre of 
his wisdom, purity, justice, and mercy, harmoniously 
uniting, yea, gloriously triumphing in the pardon and 
salvation of the penitent sinner. This knowledge of a 
reconcileable, forgiving God is very important in the re- 
ligion of a fallen creature. But the light of nature could 
give us no satisfaction on this point ; it could not dis- 
cover how far and in what way the pardon of transgres- 
sors might consist with the honour and good pleasure 
of our offended Sovereign , and with the general safety 
and welfare of his moral subjects. 

If then we believe in God, as our Supreme Ruler and 
Judge, who is justly displeased with our transgressions, 
and at the same time are friends to his perfect but injur- 
ed government and law ; shall we not gladly believe in 
his Son Jesus Christ, who came to inform us, that this 
offended and majestic Being is still ready to pardon and 
bless us in the way of humble repentance ; that on this 
condition he can and will receive us to favour, con- 
sistently with his own dignity and the general good ? 
If A\e believe in and adore God, as a Being infinitely 
perfect and glorious, can we fail to believe in and to 
honour his Son, who is the brightness of that glory, who 
is the visible and perfect image of the invisible Deity, 
and in whose face the glory of the Godhead shines with 
a mollified and endearing lustre? Shall we not rejoice 
to hear, that the high and lofty One, whom nature awful- 
ly contemplates, as infinitely above us, has come down 
to us in the person of his Son, has united -himself to our 
nature, assumed a personal and bodily form, and thus 
presented himself to our view in the most near, farail- 



316 CONNEXION BETWEEN THE [Ser. XXIV. 

iar, and engaging attitude ; so tliat we can now say with 
an exulting voice, " Behold, the tabernacle of God is 
with men, and he will dwell with them;*' yea, God 
himself, in the person of his Son, shall be sensibly with 
them, and be their God. When by faith " we come 
to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant," in whom 
God and man are brought together, w^e hereby come 
to " God the Judge of all," and thus have the most 
comforting advantages for knowing and imitating his 
perfect character, for enjoying his friendly presence and 
intercourse. 

I cannot help stopping in this place to reflect more 
particularly on the transcendent excellency of the gos- 
pel 1^1 this respect, compared with the light of nature 
and reason! The bare volume of nature gives us only 
the idea of a glorious, mysterious power diffused through 
and animating the universe ; but in contemplating this 
power, the mind acquires no distinct view of a proper 
person, possessing a definite moral character ; but it 
rjitlier loses itself in a confused, unintelligible, abstract 
idea, which it styles nature, the laws and powers of mat- 
ter and motion, or the soul of the world. But the gos- 
pel, by holding up distinctly to our view the person and 
actions of Jesus Christ, as the visible representative of 
Deity, collects our scattered and confused ideas to one 
definite and luminous point ; it fixes our views, not on 
an unintelligible phantom, which modern philosophists 
call nature^ but upon a real and divinely glorious per- 
son ; and thus brings our wandering thoughts and affec- 
tions to rest in their proper centre, in the knowledge, 
worship, and resemblance of the one true God manffest- 
ed in the person of his Son. 

While the perfections an'd will of God are thu^ 
brought down to us in the person, doctrine, and actions 



8ER.XXIV.] FATHER AND SON. 317 

of the divine Saviour ; his mediation and atoning sacri- 
Jice render it safe and honourable for the S'upreme Ruler 
to remit our offences, and restore us to liis favour. 
This doctrine of the mediatorial obedience and sutler- 
ings of an innocent and glorious Person for the benefit of 
the guilty, is not only a conspicuous feature in the gos- 
pel plan, but highl)' approves itself to those, who have 
right apprehensions of God and themselves, and of the 
general constitution of nature and providence. A just 
impression of the moral character and government of 
Deity, of what he o^ves to himself and his dominions, of 
oiu'own guilty rebellion against him, and the consequent 
marks of his displeasure, felt or apprehended, will make 
us feel the importance of some Mediator and atonement, 
to conciliate his forfeited favour. Upon this basis has 
been founded the general practice of propitiatory obla- 
tions in the Gentile world, and especially the priesthood 
and sacrifices as well, as principal predictions and 
promises, of tlie Jewish dispensation. Indeed, the 
general series of events, both in the natural and moral 
world, which is produced by the mediation of secondary 
causes or agents, is a constant illustration of the mediato- 
rial scheme of the gospel. Mediators or middle persons 
are tlie constant instruments of good and evil to man- 
kind. Thus parents are the great mediums of good or 
ill to their dependent offspring. Yea, the innocent are 
daily appointed to suffer for the fiiults and the benefit of 
the guilty. It becomes, in many cases, our indispensa- 
ble duty to intei-pose, and at the expense of gi'eat labour 
and suffering on our part, to rescue others from difficul- 
ties, into which their own follies and vices had plunged 
them, in defiance perhaps of our best admonitions and 
examples. In this way virtuous pai'ents often become 
great, yea, tlie principal sufferers by die misconduct of 



318 CONNEXION BETWEEN THE [Ser. XXIV. 

their children ; and virtuous children by the vices of 
their parents. Vicarious punishment then, or the suffer^ 
ings of the innocent for the guilty, is a divine constitu- 
tion, notified to us by daily experience. 

If therefore we believe in God, as really and justly or^ 
dering things in this manner, in the general course of his 
providence ; shall we not believe the propriety and real- 
ity of a similar, though far more illustrious instance of 
mediation and vicarious suffering, exhibited in the gos- 
pel, the truth and importance of w4iiqh are so amply at- 
tested ; and which, indeed, is explicitly interwoven with 
the w^hole scheme of Christianity, and is supported by 
the same proofs with the system at large? Shall we not 
gladly receive, and even triumph in the atoning sacrifice 
of Christ, when we have such evidence, that God himself 
has appointed and accepted it, and when our own situ- 
ation and feelings, as guilty, obnoxious oftenders, con^ 
cur with the general sense of mankind in eagerly looking 
and crying for such an expedient? Shall our ungrateful 
and foolish pride spurn the benefit of this atonement, 
merely because we cannot comprehend all the reasons 
and ends of its appointment, or the precise manner in 
which it procures our forgiveness ? Shall we dare, with 
atheistical blasphemers, to reproach this contrivance, as 
absurd and unjust, merely because it holds up God the 
Father, as subjecting his meritorious and beloved Son to 
torment and deadi in the room of guilty mankind ? Does 
jiot this reproach equally implicate the known and com- 
mon proceedings of divine providence ? Is it not com- 
pletely obviated by the voluntary consent of the Son of 
God to these vicarious sufferings, and the consequent 
glorious reward, which he received for enduring them ? 
While the gospel thus provides a complete atonement 
and pardon for our guilt, it offers and communicates the 



Ser.XXIV.1 father and son. 519 

sanctifying and comforting Spirit, to purify and strength- 
en our natures, depraved and enfeebled by sin, and to 
restore them to moral rectitude and tranquillity. If we 
have just views of God and ourselves, we must see, that 
our true perfection and happiness consist in resembling 
and enjoying him ; and that our minds, antecedently to 
the renewing grace of the gospel, are strangely alienat- 
ed from and indisposed to this resemblance and enjoy 
ment. Even some of the wiser heathens felt and ac- 
knowledged this degeneracy of human nature, and their 
need of supernatural aid to restore them to virtue and 
happiness. Shall we not then highly prize and joyfully 
embrace that divine Redeemer, *' w^ho of God is made 
unto us, not only wisdom and righteousness, but sanctifi- 
cation;" who makes us *Svilling in the day of his 
power," and who sends the promised Comforter to dwell 
in the hearts of liis people, as a perpetual spring of holi- 
ness and joy ? If we acknowledge God, as the prime 
Effieient, even in our common actions and enjoyments, 
shall we proudly disown our dependence on his gracious 
influence for those unspeakably greater blessings, which 
are implied in a truly virtuous and happy state of our 
souls ? Shall we reject or ridicule the offered grace of the 
Holy Spirit, merely because we cannot comprehend the 
mode of his operation ; when w^e are confessedly igno- 
rant of the manner of divine agency in the world of na- 
ture ? If we deny the doctrine of divine' influences in 
the kingdom of grace, do we not virtually deny it in the 
kingdom of providence ? And does not this denial im- 
ply or betray an atheistical spirit ? 

Further. If we believe in God, as the Father of our 
spirits, which must shortly return to him that gave 
them ; if we believe, upon the footing of reason, that he 
has destined us for another and everlasting world ; we 



SSe CONNEXION BETWEEN, fee. [Ser.XXIT. 

sliall gladly believe in One, who will give us certain infor- 
mation of that unknown region ; who will undertake to 
guide VIS to it ; w^ho will stand our friend in the last de- 
cisive trial, and secure our acquittance and happiness in 
the state of retribution. 

How very poor is the most refined system of pa- 
gan philosophy, or of modern infidelity, compared 
with the divine philosophy of the Bible ! What no- 
ble sei>timents and exalted consolations does the lat- 
ter inspire in the most trying and distressful situations I 
What was the boasted patience and fortitude of ancient 
stoics and recent unbelievers amidst the evils of life, 
the agonies of death, or the anguish of bereavement? 
What but an inhuman and gloomy apathy, founded in 
the extinction of the best feelings of the heart, and inca- 
pacity of supporting it in seasons of extremity ! But 
Christianity, far from suppressing, accommodates itself 
to our natural sensibilities ; it permits and regulates, it 
sooths and refines our tender passions under afflictive 
events, while it improves these events, and the sorrow 
they produce, as fresh and powerful means of promot- 
ing both our present virtue and future bliss. Should we 
not then v/elcome to our hearts that divine religion, 
which provides a sovereign balm for every wound ; 
which consoles bleeding friendship and love under the 
dissolution of the tenderest connexions ; which soft- 
ens the pillow of siclcness and death e\ en to the most 
timid and feeble of its votaries ; which has enabled 
thousands of Christians, of every age, sex, and condi- 
tion to triumph over the last enemy, even in its most 
terrible forms — " O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, 
where is thy victory ?" 



feermon xxv 



Religion the one Thing needful." 



w 



Luke x. 42. 
But one thing is needful. 



HEN our Lord uttered these words, he was on a. 
visit to an amiable family, consisting of Lazarus and his 
two sisters, Martha and Mary, each of whom was a de- 
voted and beloved friend of Jesus Christ. On this oc- 
casion, however, the t\vo sisters honoured their divine 
Guest in ^ ery different modes. Mary, throwing aside 
every worldly concern, gave herself up to his improving 
conversation. She " sat at his feet," in the usual pos- 
ture of a disciple, " and heard his word. " But the elder 
sister, anxious to provide an entertainment worthy of so 
illustrious a Person, encumbered herself with unseason- 
able and excessive care ; and in the hurry of business 
came to Jesus with a peevish complaint against Mary 
for sitting idle at so pressing a time ; which complaint 
is so expressed, as to implicate Christ himself. *' Lord, 
dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve 
alond? bid her therefore that she help me." We must 
be permitted to observe here, that those persons give 
not the best kind of .welcome to the visits of their friends, 
who, like this good woman, appear anxious, troubled, 

• This sermon was delivered at the chnrch in Brattle street, Boston, on 
L«rd*8 day, Aug. 7, 1803, aud the author died the 27th of the same month- 



322 ONE THING ^NEEDFUL. [Ser.XXV. 

or mortified op. the subject of entertaining them, what- 
ever kindness or respect may be the ground of tliis 
appearance. 

Our Lord, in the words which include our text, re- 
proves this immoderate carefuhiess. " And Jesus 
answered and said, Martha, thou art careful and troub- 
led about many things ; but one thing is needful ; and 
Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be 
taken away from her.*' As the *' many things," which 
at this time unduly occupied die attention of one sister, 
are here opposed to *' the one thing*' declared to be ex- 
clusively "needful," and to ''the good part" chosen 
by the other, and which could not be taken from her ; 
we may certainly conclude, that this "one thing" means 
Religion, or the predominant care of the soul, as op- 
posed to those multiplied earthly solicitudes, which en- 
gross and distract the children of this world, and which 
sometimes vex and defile even the best of Christians. 

I propose therefore in the following discourse to illus- 
trate and enforce this great truth, that religion is the one 
thing necessary. 

By religion We intend a supreme regard to God and 
duty, or a prevaiHng concern for our own eternal salva- 
tion. These t^vo ideas cannot be separated ; for as God 
wills our final happiness in the way of holiness, so by 
properly seeking our own salvation we effectually please,, 
obey, and honour our Creator ; and on the other hand, 
so far, as we dcAOte ourselves to him, we necessarily 
secure and enjoy the highest felicity. Accordingly, to 
,glorify God and enjoy him forever constitutes the one 
chief business and happiness of man: I would further 
remark, that, though religion is made up of many differ- 
ent parts, which respect a great variety of actions, ob- 
jects, and ends, yet it is justly denominated y^«<f thing; 



Ser.XXV.] one thing needful. 323 

because these several parts, far from interfering with 
each other, hke the different passions and pursuits of 
the worldly man, are harmoniously connected. They 
mutually beget or improve each other, and go to consti- 
tute one beautiful and perfect whole. Thus the piety 
and morality, the internal holiness and external obedi- 
ence of the good man are but one thing under different 
names and modifications : for they all have one origin, 
viz. die Spirit of God ; they flow from one principle, viz. 
an upright heart ; they produce one general effect, the 
growing virtue and peace of their possessor ; they are 
offered to and accepted by the Deity through one Medi- 
ator, Jesus Christ ; they seek and finally terminate in 
the same. great ends, the glory of God and the highest 
happiness of man. We may add, that, where true piety 
prevails, it sanctifies even the natural affections, the in- 
nocent acquired habits, and all the civil actions and en- 
joyments of its subject, and renders them so many in- 
struments or branches of religion ; insomuch, that the 
real Christian, '' whatever he does, in word or deed, does 
all in the name of the Lord Jesus. Whether he eats or 
drinks, or whatever he does, he does all to the glory of 
God.'* In short, all his views, exercises, and pleas- 
ures are consecrated, limited, or subdued by one all-; 
pervading, all controlling principle of rectitude. 

As religion is thus but one th'mg^ so it may be justly 
styled the oric thing needful ; because it is necessary in 
a sense, which is absolute, transcendent, and universal. 
Wh^n we contemplate the necessity of religion, so man\* 
arguments rush upon our minds, that we scarcely know 
where to begin, or vrhere to end. 

In the First place, the importance of religion appear* 
from a consideration of that Being, who is its principal 
y V 



324 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser. XXV, 

object. True piety is chiefly employed in knowing 
and loving, in resembling and honouring the Deity ; in 
receiving and reflecting his moral glory. As the mor- 
al rectitude of Jehovah is the sum and crown of his in- 
finite excellence, so vital religion is a living copy, a 
visible though imperfect display of this divine excel- 
Jence. Hence it is called the image and life of God, a 
participation of his nature, a showing forth of his virtues 
and praises : the subject of it is said to be one with 
God, to co-operate and have fellowship with him, to be 
filled with his fulness^ and to enter into his joy. What 
beauty, dignity, and happiness do these expressions con- 
vey ! How inconceivably important then is religion, 
which unites man to Deity ; which renders him the im- 
age and the instrument of his glory, and thus directly 
promotes the chief end of our being ! The man, who 
is a stranger to religion, lives without God in the world ; 
he robs his Maker of that honour, and himself of that 
perfection, for which his reasonable nature was chiefly 
designed. This leads us to observe, 

n. That the necessity of religion further appears: 
from the nature and lyalue of the human soul. The pre- 
eminence of man above the brutes lies in the powers 
and capacities of his mind. Now religion directs these 
powers to their proper objects ; it at once enlarges and 
fills these capacities. It strengthens and satisfies the 
understanding with that divine knowledge, which is its 
noblest food and entertainment. It purifies and regu^ 
I'ates the will. It harmonizes, exalts, and gratifies the af-. 
fections. It relieves and solaces the wounded conscience. 
It inspires that inward peace, which is the -sunshine of 
the soul, and the dawn of heaven. 

-But withoutreligion the soul cannot enjoy peace, and 
of course the man cannot be happy. For happiness or 



aER.XXV.] ONE THING NEEDFUL. 325 

misery flows not so much from exterior circumstances, 
as from the internal state of the mind. Now a rational 
mind, ^\ hich feels no love to its infinite Creator and Ben- 
efactor, no delight in the Supreme Good, no confidence 
in the favour of Him, on w horn its eternal fate depends, 
must be inwardly poor and wretched, though surround- 
ed ^vith all the sources of eartlily felicity. Such a crca- 
.ture must feel himself in an unnatural, distempered, 
;and therefore painful condition. He must feel the tor- 
ture of desires unsatisfied, of faculties prostituted, of 
hopes disappointed ; of passions at once contradictory, 
.clamorous, and unbounded ; he must, whenever he so- 
berly reflects, endure the anguish and terror, inflicted by 
^n upbraiding conscience and a frowning God. His on- 
ly refuge from this anguish is .in thoughtless dissipa- 
tion, or in a rapid succession of worldly pursuits and in- 
dulgences. But this refuge forsakes him in the gloomy 
intervals of solitude, of external danger and distress, and 
especially on the bed of death. The honest and great 
teacher, death, gives new hghtand activity to his reflect- 
ing powers ; it brings into lively view his God dishon- 
oured and incensed, his Redeemer insulted, his soul 
neglected and ruined, his fellow men, and even his dear- 
est friends, corrupted, and perhaps destroyed by his 
criminal example, principles, or unfaithfulness. To 
complete this picture of wo, the hand of death separates 
him forever from those worldly objects, to which all his 
aflfections, habits, and pleasures were attached. At the 
same time it excludes him from the beatific presence 
of that Being, who only could make him happy ; or rath- 
er his own confirmed depravity renders him incapable 
of sharing in the pure and refined enjoyments of the in- 
visible world, and of course subjects him to extreme and 
hopeless miser\'. Thus sound reason and experience 



526 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser.XXV. 

as well, as revelation, assure us, that a creature so form- 
ed and destined, as the human soul, cannot be happy 
in any possible circumstances, but must be exceedingly 
wretched, without religion ; and of course, that this is 
the one thing necessary. This argument is greatly 
strengthened when we add, 

III. That the Bible holds up the importance of re- 
ligion in the most impressive light, by revealing the 
wonderful methods, which the Most High has eniployed 
to restore and preserve it in our degenerate world. In- 
deed the whole system, both of revelation and provi- 
dence, respecting mankind, has been directed to this 
object. For this, prophets and apostles preached and 
wrote. For this, kings and empires have been exalted, 
shaken, and destroyed. For this, the church of God 
and its sacred institutions were early established, and 
have been wonderfully supported. For this, the Son of 
God descended from heaven to a manger and a cross, 
to recover fallen man to true religion, and thus raise him 
to everlasting happiness. The divine Saviour taught and 
laboured, obeyed and died, rose and ascended, and still 
employs his interceding, ruling, and saving power. In 
a word, the scriptures represent the work of redemption, 
as the greatest effort of infinite wisdoiil and love ; and 
they constantly represent this work, as having for its ob- 
ject the restoration of our souls from the ruins of sin to 
holiness and glory. How transcendentl)^ necessary and 
valuable must have been that object, on which infinite 
benevolence and wisdom have thus lavished their treas- 
ures ! How precious the human soul, for which heaven 
itself has paid such a price ! How is man ennobled, how 
is religion exalted, by such a mighty apparatus employ- 
ed in their favour ! What an awful and endearing bond 
does this impose on redeemed men to value their own 



Ser. XXV.] ONE THING NEEDFUL. 527 

souls, to seek their recovery to holiness and happiness, 
as the one thing needful ! How unspeakably does it en- 
hance the guilt and condemnation of those, who oppose 
that religion, a\ ho despise that salvation, which are thus 
recommended to and urged upon them by the blood of 
the Son of God ! How can we escape, if we neglect so 
great salvation ! 

IV. Religion is the one thing needful, l^ecause it is 
of unhersal necessity. It is equally necessar}' for all 
men, yea, for all rational creatures in the imiAcrse. Re- 
ligion essentially consists in lo\e to God and fellow be- 
ings, expressed in every suitable vw. ' Now this is 
equally the duty and the happiness of all classes of in- 
telligences. It is as necessary for angels, as for men ; 
this constitutes the chief beauty and felicity of celestial 
spirits, as distinguished from malignant and miserable 
demons. This was the glory and bliss of man in Para- 
dise ; and the recovery and exercise of this spirit are 
the main duty and interest of man since his apostasy. 
In other m ords, the general duty of men is always ne- 
cessarily the same, though the particular expressions or 
instruments of it may considerably var)^ Thus, after 
the fall, repentance of sin, faith in a Mediator, and cer- 
tain outward symbols, as signs and means of religion, 
became proper and needful, which were not suitable or 
necessary for innocent man. So the peculiar circum- 
stances and genius of the Jewish nation rendered many 
ceremonial observances expedient for them, which are 
totally improper under the Christian dispensation. Yet 
still the - same general spirit and practice are required 
amid all this variety of circumstances and modes. The 
strictest observance of the Mosaic rites ^\as of no avail 
any further, than it expi'essed and promoted substantial 
virtue and piety. Nor is the most zealous regard to the 



528 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser. XXT. 

peculiar 4octrines and institutions of the gospel of any 
significancy , unless it produce and nourish a holy temper 
and conduct. 

As vital religion is thus necessary for men under ev- 
ery dispensation, so it is equally essential in all their civ- 
il and w^orldly employments, in all the relations, w^hich 
they bear to human society. Whether they move in 
a higher or lower sphere, whether they pursue an active 
or a contemplative life, they are equally the creatures and 
subjects of God, and in this view are equally bound to 
practise every moral and religious duty. The more ex- 
alted their stations are, the more need they have of a pi- 
ous principle to prevent the abuse of worldly greatness ; 
to secure a sober estimate, a temperate ienjoyment, a dili- 
gent and beneficent improvement of it ; to make them 
constantly feel the high duty and responsibility attached 
to it ; and thus to render their useful examples and ef- 
forts in some measure equal to their extensive powers 
and opportunities. On these accounts the obligation 
and necessity of religion to public officers, civil as well, 
?is ecclesiastical, are preeminently great; and the incon- 
isistency of a free, well informed, and Christian people in 
electing men to high stations, who are not faithful to 
themselves and tjieir God, can hardly be expressed. 
The ministers of the commonwealth ought certainly 
to co-operate wdth those of the church, in promoting the 
greatest good of the community ; but how can this be 
expected, if religion be not the governing principle of 
both ! I need not insist on the importance of real and 
exemplary sanctity in Christian instructors, because you 
instantly perceive the absurdity and mischief of a man's 
teaching and enforcing upon others what he does not 
Jieartily believe and practise himself ; and because you 
will readily allow, th^it personal piety in a minister is at 



Ser. XXVO one thing needful. 329 

once the best recommendation of it to others, and the 
best pledge of his pastoral Melity and success. 

We might go on to observe, that religion is likewise 
necessary in domestic life. It is important, both to se- 
cure and exalt the reciprocal affections, virtues, and sat- 
isfactions of the conjugal, parental, and filial relalions. 
It is needful to restrain parents from relaxing their just 
authority by indolence or extreme indulgence, and from 
abusing it, by passionate and brutal severitj . It is ne- 
cessary to insure that sober and pious education of 
children, on which individual, domestic, and public 
happiness essentially depends. It is necessary to ren- 
der private families the props of the church and com- 
monwealth, and nurseries for heaven. That spirit, 
which religion inspires, will make superior conde- 
scending and beneficent ; equals, courteous and oblig- 
ing ; inferiors, respectful and submissive. It will form 
men into good neighbours, faithful friends, orderly cit- 
izens, and useful patriots. The pious man, who acts 
from principle, will be far more correct and uniform, 
dihgent and resolute, in performing the duties of every 
situation, than persons of a different character. He 
wdll be directed by the best motives, both in the choice 
and prosecution of his particular calling. His great and 
conscientious inquiry will be, in what employment can 
I best serve God and man, and promote my own ever- 
lasting well being. As he sets out in the career of life 
with these views, so his after progress, being guided 
and animated by them, will, under the promised favour 
of Heaven, be safe and comfortable, diligent and pros- 
perous, respectable and useful. Since then religion is 
so important to every rank, relation, and business, it 
may well be styled the one thing needful. Other accom- 



$20 one; thing needful. [Ser. XXV. 

plishments may be severally necessary to particular em- 
ployments ; but this is alike beneficial to all. 

As this qualiiication is indispensable to every occupa- 
tion, so it is needful in every condition and vicissitude 
of life. If w'c exult in outward health and prosperity, 
how necessary is a religious principle to the true enjoy- 
ment and the right improvement of such a state ! How 
necessary to keep us in the middle path between sordid 
avarice and wanton prodigality ! How often does world- 
ly wealth destroy the virtue, the comfort, the usefulness, 
and the final happiness of its possessors, by nourishing a 
proud and unfeeling, an anxious and craving, a carnal 
and irreligious spirit I Nothing but deep rooted piety is 
an effectual preservative from these evils. This, and 
this only, will extract the good, without the poison, of 
earthly enjoyments. This will produce a sentimental 
and refined relish of these comforts, and at the same 
time, a virtuous and beneficent application of them; 
which gives to the possessor the noblest satisfaction 
they -are fitted to impart. Agreeably, the wisest of men 
has told us, that '' God giveth to a man, that is good in 
his sight, wisdom, and knowledge, and joy;" wisdom 
and knov/ledge to regulate his desire, fruition, and im- 
provement of temporal blessings ; and joy, as the fruit 
and reward of his wise regulations : ^' but to the sinner 
he giveth travail to gather and to heap up," without any 
power to enjoy, or to do good wdth his treasures.. 
" This," Solomon justly adds, ^' is vanity and vexation 
of spirit." 

If we reverse the scene, and contemplate the child of 
poverty and distress, how needful is religion to sustain, 
to sooth, and to sanctify his afSicted state ! When the 
world frowns upon him on every side, from w^hat source 



Ser. XXV.] ONE THING NEEDFUL. 33^ 

can he derive comfort, but from the smiles of conscience 
and of Heaven, from a pious resignation to, and trust in 
the providence of God, and the hope of eternal glory, as 
the recompense of his momentary sufferings,''paticnt- 
ly endured and rightly improved? Those troubles, 
which crush the spirits of the wicked, give new lustre 
and triumph to the man of religion, by display in p- the 
efficacy of pious principles in blunting the darts of ad- 
versity, and converting them into instruments of holiness 
and joy. 

We may add here, religion is eminently needful to 
inspire equanimity amid those sudden changes of condi- 
tion, to which we are constantly exposed ; to keep our 
minds humble and temperate, when we are hastily exalt- 
ed from a poor, calamitous state, to affluence, ease, or ce- 
lebrity ; and to give us fortitude and submission when 
unexpectedly visited with the reverse. In short, piety 
must be our continual pilot and anchor, both to' steer 
our course through the uncertain voyage of life, and en- 
able us to out ride the storms, which assail it. This 
leads us to subjoin^ 

That the preeminence of religion further appears 
irom Its importance at all seasons. To every thino^ 
else, as the wise man tells us, there are appropri"! 
ate seasons; but this is always seasonable, and there- 
fore always beautiful and necessary. A professor of pie- 
ty must never sacrifice his religion to any comna- 
ny, business, or amusement ; he must appear always 
adorned with it ; he must be in the fear of the Lord all the 
day long ; he must rejoice in God always ; he must pray 
and give thanks without ceasing; he must do every 
thing to the glory of God ; that is, a pious habit and 



z 



S3? ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser.XXV, 

frame of spirit, a readiness for duty, a prevailing desire 
to please God and profit men, must never be suspend- 
ed. This must regulate and sanctify his worldly busi- 
ness, his social duties, and even his cheerful relaxa- 
tions. Unless this be our habitual aim, we contradict 
the great end, for which time and existence were 
given us. 

This observation introduces another, which is, that 
religion is necessary for every stage of life, from early 
childhood to grey hairs. The youngest human being 
must have the seeds of this heavenly temper, in order 
to qualify him for the heavenly felicity. You, who are 
in the bloom of childhood, or of youth, need this prin- 
ciple to guard you against the numberless temptations 
to folly and sin, which constantly surround you. You 
need it to improve those inw ard accomplishments, ex- 
terior manners, and innocent pleasures, which become 
your period of life. You need it, as the great prepara- 
tive for a useful manhood, a comfortable old age, and 
a peaceful death. It is needful for persons of mature 
years to moderate, to sanctify, and to prosper the 
worldly cares, pursuits, and enjoyments of manly life. 
It is needful for advanced age, to lighten its burdens, 
to give dignity to the hoary head, to compensate and 
sooth the decay of animal life, and its pleasures, with the 
hope of immortal vigour and undecaying pleasure at 
God's right hand. 

Which brings us to remark in the Las.t place, that re- 
ligion is necessary for both worlds ; while other things 
are needful in a sense, which is merely local and tempo- 
rary. When we call food and raiment, and comfortable 
habitations necessaries of life, we use a dialect, which 
belongs only to the animal part and the inilmtile state of 



»ER. XXV.] ONE THING NEEDFUL. 333 

man ; for these things are so far from being essential to 
him, when arrived at his true perfection, that their ne- 
cessity and use will then forever cease ; }-ea, he must 
drop these badges and fetters of childhood, before he 
can enjoy matured freedom and happiness ; before he 
can rise to those noble and everlasting joys, for which 
his nature is designed. Did we, my brethren, fully real- 
ize these truths, we should hardly apply the term neces- 
sary to any thing, but that, which directly promotes our 
ultimate perfection and blessedness. Now what can 
this be, but religion ? This and this only assimilates us 
to God and superior beings, and of course renders us 
capable of sharing their society and blessedness. It is 
the voice of reason as well, as revelation : " Without ho- 
liness no man shall see the Lord." But *' blessed are 
the pure in heart; for they shall see God." " Blessed 
are they that do his commandments, that they may have 
a right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the 
gates into the city.'? 

As the preceding discourse has been wholly practical, 
and has aimed to bring home the importance of true pie- 
ty to every one's conscience, there is no necessity, nor 
indeed time, for a formal application. Otherwise we 
might lament the folly, depravity, and wretchedness of 
those, who openly despise, or carelessly neglect the one 
thing needful. If there could be grief in heaven, angel^ 
would weep at such a spectacle. We might congratu- 
late those, who, having chosen and secured the good 
part, have no occasion for anxious concern about any 
thing else. But I will only leave with you and myself, 
this one refiection : Our subject holds out to each of 
us this awful alternative ; we must either become truly 
holy, or sell our birthright, as rational beings, and sint 



33h ONE THING NEEDFUL; [Sek. XXV. 

ourselves far below the brutes. We must either love 
and serve our Creator, or share the dreadful guilt and 
punishment of his enemies. Let us then make our 
choice. But O let us choose life, that we may live, and 
ftot die. 



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